The Missing Christmas Chapters
by zaubernuss
Summary: Companion piece to 'Getting the Best of the Gloomilows' (chronologically set between chapter 14 and 15). For the Christmas holidays in the year after the war, Harry has invited people to Grimmauld Place who are getting increasingly important to him: Hermione, Draco, Remus, Luna and Severus. It's mostly just some holiday fluff, fun and romance, with the main focus on SSHG.
1. Deck the Halls

_I'm about two years late with the promised missing Christmas chapters, and I apologize for that! I still don't have this short story entirely completed, but I'm getting there, and in the spirit of the holidays, I want to share with you what I have. _

_For first time readers, this story is sort of an excerpt from 'Getting the Best of the Gloomilows'. It would be Chapter 14 1/2. If you have a flexible mind, I think it could be read without knowing the entire story. The general frame is this: Back in Hogwarts for her missing 7th year of education, Hermione becomes friends with the Potions Master, who helps her deal with some issues she's having since the war. There has been a kiss at the very beginning of their relationship due to circumstances, but since then, Severus has been keeping their relationship strictly platonic, as starting something with a student doesn't sit well with him. It's getting increasingly difficult for both of them, though. :) _

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**Deck the Halls**

The faint popping sound of apparition announced the visitor shortly before Hermione heard the knock on the front door to Grimmauld Place. Feeling a thrill of anticipation, she rushed to open it and was overjoyed to find the person whose arrival she had most anxiously been awaiting: Professor Snape.

He cut an impressive figure, standing there on the front step at his full height, his long and black travelling cloak billowing behind him in the slight breeze almost as dramatically as his teaching robes when he roamed the hallways in Hogwarts. Maybe it was the fact that Hermione hadn't seen him for an entire week and had been missing him every day since, or maybe it was because she had gotten so used to seeing him every day that she didn't really look at him consciously anymore... for whatever reason, he suddenly struck her as incredibly handsome, and she could only stare at him breathlessly. She had come to see him as attractive quite a while ago, but that attraction had not so much been due to his physical attributes as to his entire manner. Now, for the first time, she noticed how much about the appearance of the man who used to be called 'bat of the dungeons' before the war had changed over the last few months.

For one, he looked much more healthy than Hermione ever remembered. The tension lines that had always been etched into his features were gone, his expression seemed somehow softer, his complexion still light, but no longer sallow. His eyes, however, were as dark and captivating as ever. Deep, bottomless pools which drew her in... they seemed to be beckoning, making her wish she could fall right into them. She knew now that they were the entrance to a beautiful mind, which she really wished she could enter once again.

"Miss Granger...," he interrupted her silent revery, as curt as he was prone to be. "Will I be invited in, or is there a need for this thorough inspection before letting me pass through the door?"

Hermione blushed profoundly. "Excuse me... Of course not! It's just... you look good, Sir."

Her honest, if unexpected comment made his eyebrow rise, she was uncertain whether in disbelief at the truthfulness of her statement or her typical Gryffindor bluntness.

"Well, it's true," Hermione said defensively. "And it's not only because I've been looking forward to seeing you."

"I should probably offer to brew you an eye-sharpening potion once we're back at Hogwarts, but I think I'd rather reap the benefits of your apparently defective sight."

"Just don't lose your snark or your frown - you wouldn't be you without it. Come on in then..." She stepped aside to let him pass. "Harry and Draco are in the backyard, felling a Christmas tree."

"In the backyard?" he asked, clearly bemused. "As far as I remember, there are no trees in that small patch of dirt Black used to call the yard. Certainly no firs."

"Well, there is this one dead acorn...," Hermione said, twisting her mouth. "The boys figured their charmswork is good enough to transfigure it into a decent coniferous tree."

His brow rose doubtfully. "Is it?"

Hermione shrugged. "The last time I saw it, it was covered in something that looked like green, spiky fur... so I guess in the widest sense of the word coniferous tree, you might call it one."

"Charming. Well, then, lead the way so I can greet my gracious host."

Harry briefly turned around when the back door opened. "Hermione - look what Draco did!" he exclaimed with boastful admiration. On noticing his guest, he smiled even more widely and came to meet them. "Professor Snape!" he said, offering his hand. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place. I'm really happy that you were able to come. We're just putting on the final touches on the decorations."

"So I see..." Severus said, looking at the transfigured Christmas tree that actually bore only very little resemblance to an acorn. It was roughly triangular in shape and sprouted branches and twigs with small, longish leaves that almost looked like needles. It was a bit sparse compared to a coniferous tree, but it would probably allow for lavish decorations.

"We're doing a living nativity scene, too!" Harry proclaimed. "Great, isn't it?"

For a brief moment, Severus was worried he meant they were supposed to do some kind of live re-enactment – in which case he would have cut his visit very short. But then he saw what Harry referred to when saying 'living' and could only barely refrain from snorting.

"It was Harry's idea," Malfoy modestly acknowledged his friend's contribution to the work project at hand. "I just did the charms. Hello, Godfather!"

"What charms?" Hermione enquired, looking over the boys shoulders. Draco pointed to the little figurines that loosely resembled the people said to have been present at baby Jesus' birth: Three holy kings with crowns on their heads, a shepherd with a full flock of miniature sheep, Joseph and the virgin Mary with baby Jesus and even an angel in a white dress. They looked really cute – except for their faces, which were all set in deep, angry scowls. And the angel had hairy legs.

Hermione blinked. "Just what _is_ this?"

"Garden gnomes," Draco said, visibly proud of his work. "Well, except for the sheep - they're actually cockroaches. I really didn't know I had it in me."

"Very impressive, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said, heavy irony dripping in his voice. "I always knew your Hogwarts education would one day allow you to accomplish something of greatness."

Hermione didn't share either of her friends sentiments. She stared horrified at the immobilized garden gnomes. "You can't do that!" she protested. "Harry - you cannot possibly be okay with him torturing those poor creatures."

Harry looked from Severus to her and back with confusion. "Poor creatures? Hermione – they're pests! Besides, we didn't torture them. Draco just petrified and charmed them a little."

"They don't look petrified, just horrified! Their eyes are moving!"

"Well, yes - Petrification doesn't really work very well on gnomes," Draco said, shrugging. "But I think it adds to the overall effect. We'll just have to re-enforce the spell every few hours."

"They'll stop scowling once we bring them in inside and set them up under the tree," Harry assuaged, seeing that Hermione was about to open her mouth and voice her protest again. "After all, it's nice and warm inside, and they won't have to spend Christmas out in the cold rain."

"I'm really not sure they'll appreciate it..."

"Well, I don't appreciate them eating all the vegetables Kreacher is trying to grow in the backyard either, but they do it anyway."

"Professor Snape..." Hermione turned to him, pleading for intervention.

He lifted his hands in helpless gesture. "Don't look at me, Miss Granger. I'm just a visitor, and will certainly not interfere or comment on our hosts' decorations." He bent down and whispered into her ear: "Trust me, it might actually make for some entertainment later on..."

*'*'*'*'*'*

"Miss Granger?" Professor Snape held her back when they stepped back inside and nodded towards the kitchen stair. "May I have a word with you in private?"

"Of course..." Hermione followed him into the kitchen, feeling a bit flustered. Being alone with him in his office was different - in a way, the place defined their relationship. There, he was the teacher, she the student. Grimmauld Place, however, was private, neutral ground and their roles were temporally suspended. He wasn't even wearing the teaching robes she had gotten so used to seeing on him.

"I know that traditionally, Christmas presents are exchanged on the 25th, but since we agreed to do the White Elephant gift exchange and you already gave me a Christmas present, I wanted to return yours as well. I know you told me to keep it until you returned to Hogwarts, but I wanted you to have it."

He handed her a package that was wrapped rather professionally and decorated with a bow that had Madame Maulkins printed on it.

"But..." Hermione began, looking at the label with confusion in her eyes. The coat he had gifted her with had been his own. After having lent it to her in a gesture of chivalry, Hermione had conveniently 'forgotten' to return it. It was nice and warm, but that wasn't what she most loved about it. It was the scent. The cloak smelled like him: Parchment, soap and potion ingredients - the nice smell of potent herbs, not the less savory parts of animals.

"It's still the coat I gave you," Severus explained on seeing her astonishment. "I just took the liberty to have it altered and adjusted to your size. You don't want to trip over the hem all the time. Besides, it now has a narrower waist, too, and looks a bit more - female. I think you're safe to wear it even here... while you won't be able to deny that you were inspired by my style, no one will recognize that it's actually my robe."

Hermione opened the package, pulled out the garment and curiously held it in front of her. In essence, it was still the same pitch black Snape-style robe – just a female version. It was beautiful.

"Oh, I love this!" Hermione declared, pulling the material close to her chest and burying her nose in the soft wool. Then her eyes widened.

"Oh no..." she muttered, sounding stricken now.

"What is it?" he asked, wondering about her reaction. She couldn't be allergic to the wool - it was, after all, the same material. He would have ordered her a new cloak instead of re-tailoring his old one, but he had feared that she wouldn't have accepted it.

"Have you washed it?"

"Of course I have!" Did she think he'd return it worn?

"But you weren't supposed to do that!" Hermione blurted out.

Her teacher frowned. She made no sense. "Why ever not?" Severus asked, totally out of his wits. "Because of those funky spores? Don't worry, they'll still be on it. It's impossible to wash them off, remember?"

She looked at him unhappily.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Just what is your obsession with my robe, pray tell? I'm afraid I'm not getting it."

She sighed and looked down, blushing a bit. "I wanted it to smell like it did before."

"What did it smell like before?" He tried to remember where he might have been wearing it for it to catch a special kind of smell.

"Like you," she said softly, and all he could do was stare at her dumbfounded. "It smelled like you and I found it comforting. I kept it under my pillow. I never had any nightmares while I did."

He didn't know what to say. Maybe it was a thing women did. Merlin, he was almost forty and he honestly had no idea. No one had ever expressed the desire to smell him or his clothes. He had thought she was enjoying the warmth of his robe on her late night trips to the kitchen. But to think that she found comfort in having it close... that she had taken it to bed, buried her head in its folds and... no. He didn't want to think what else she might have done while clinging to it.

It was getting much too warm in the robe he was wearing. In an impromptu decision, he shook it off and held it out for her, demanding the other robe in return.

"I hope this will do to keep your nightmares at bay until we can switch again. Since I can't wear the altered robe anymore, I hope it will suffice if I put it under my pillow for now. But don't get your hopes up - you won't be getting both robes."

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Thank you!" she breathed, hugging the robe close and discreetly lowering her nose to it.

He shook his head. "If I had known it was just the smell you're after, a pair of socks would have come much cheaper."

"You can grumble all you like if that's making you feel better about it," Hermione said, still smiling warmly at him. "But I know by now that you're all snark and no bite."

"Don't be so sure about that, Miss Granger," he said darkly. He was neither werewolf nor vampire, so biting her might not be on his mind, but if she knew of all the things he wanted to do to her, she'd probably be running nevertheless.

Hermione carefully folded the coat, put it back into the parcel and casually cast a shrinking charm on it, so she could put it in her pocket and sneak it into her room without anybody being the wiser. Though Severus didn't say so, he was impressed by her abilities with nonverbal magic and the ease she demonstrated with her charms. She really was a powerful witch.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"That would be agreeable, thank you."

She busied herself with the kettle, casting a heating charm on it and put out two cups and tea bags.

"I still have to thank you for your present," Severus said, clearing his throat. "And the letter explaining to me what it is... "

Hermione smiled. "I thought you might have wondered why I gifted you with a amber glowing snow globe." She thought it was the perfect gift, but you had to know what exactly it was to appreciate it.

"Indeed," Severus answered, not knowing how to ask the burning question that had been on his mind ever since he had unwrapped the softly glowing glass sphere. The explanation that it contained Magic Butterfly cocoons and spores of the invisible fungus which Miss Lovegood claimed Hogwarts was infested with was, of course, ludicrous. But he had been unable to figure out what else it could be.

"And - does it work?"

Contrary to him, she had no qualms about asking the loaded questions. "Well, it's hard to tell," he said, sidestepping a potentially incriminating answer. "I guess Miss Lovegood will have to sprinkle me with the dust of Magic Hood Butterfly cocoons to be sure." How she had gotten her hands on that rare and precious ingredient was another mystery. Magic Hood Butterflies pupated in camouflaged cocoons that always took on the exact colour of their surroundings and were thus invisible. In consequence, it was rather hard to find them.

"Just how exactly did you manage to make the powdered cocoons inside the globe glow?" He had been wondering about that endlessly after reading her letter. The powder that was gained when drying and grinding the empty cocoons was just as invisible. He had once made the mistake of not immediately labelling the storage jar in which he had put it, and since the powder was odourless and tasteless as well, he had needed to weigh and compare all his supposedly empty containers to find out which one actually wasn't empty. The powder wasn't used in many potions, but it was essential for the making of invisibility coats. It certainly didn't glow by itself, but according to her claims, it was all she had put into the globe. Discounting the non-existent Gloomilow spores.

"You don't believe what I told you?" Hermione asked, and he had to give her credit for managing to sound perfectly serious.

"That it's the Gloomilows spores glowing inside? No." He had believed that she was making a bit of fun of Miss Lovegood's crazy theories. But then, that didn't sound like Hermione at all.

"Well, I had guessed that you - just like me - must have suffered a common Whotnit infection at some point in your life, since you never mentioned seeing spores on me, and we both know it wasn't politeness that kept you from calling my attention to them. Actually, Luna came up with the idea of using the powdered cocoons of the Magic Hood Butterfly as transmitting agent. Inside the globe, the only thing surrounding the powder are the Gloomilow spores, so naturally, the powder will take on that colour. The fact that the powder glows proves that the spores are really in there - and that Luna was even right about the colour of my aura."

"_Or_ you used some kind of charm to make the powder glow. I just haven't managed to figure out which one. Impressive spellwork, Miss Granger! And you even delivered it with a plausible reason why I need to feed it with magic from time to time."

"To feed the Gloomilows, of course."

"To sustain your inventive little charm, more likely!"

Hermione grinned. "If you think so. I won't gainsay you - you're not exactly magnanimous with compliments, so I'll just keep the few I get, even if they happen to be undeserved."

"You will not tell me?" He really was curious. His detection and revealing spells hadn't yielded any result, so whatever she had done, the charm was pretty much undetectable. It irked him that he hadn't been able to uncover her spellwork.

"There's nothing to tell. Why would I give you a glow-globe at all, if not for the therapeutic effect the Gloomilows are likely to have on you?"

He narrowed his eyes. That was an utterly Slytherin question, and he believed she was fully aware of it. If she gifted him with a softly glowing snow globe in the colour of her aura with the honest intention of making him feel good when he looked at it - how could he ever prove it not to work? Of course he felt an odd kind of warmth spread through him when he was bathed in the soothing, golden light of that miniature sun that now set on his desk. She had given him a Christmas gift, and he hardly ever got any gifts. Magic Hood Butterfly was extremely expensive and hard to come by, and she had spared neither trouble nor expense on his behalf. She also must have spent a great deal of time creating a spell to make the powder glow. She wanted him to have something that reminded him of her. She believed they were good for each other. She wanted him to be happy. Basically, she had filled the globe with her blessings and with her affection. Of course it was having an effect on him, whether there were Gloomilows in it or not. And of course he knew that this was exactly the reason why she had given it to him. But he'd rather bite his tongue than admit that to her. And he couldn't say anything else either, without being insulting.

So he didn't say anything and just kept glowering at her. Hermione smiled brightly. A scent of jasmine and orange engulfed him, and he could feel her breath warm on his skin when the cheeky witch leaned closer and whispered: "I'm glad you like it!" into his ear.

*'*'*'*'*'*

Remus and Teddy arrived only a short time later. Harry and Draco were busy floating their decorations up into the parlour on the first floor, and Hermione and Severus were just coming up from the kitchen when the door bell rang.

"Remus!" Harry and Hermione welcomed their long-time friend with a brief hug, and Hermione took the little boy from his arms to cuddle him.

"Lupin," Severus acknowledged the arrival of the his colleague and fellow order member with an incline of his head. His feelings about the werewolf were still mixed. They were on collegial terms, which meant that apart from brief exchanges at the breakfast or dinner table in Hogwarts, they didn't interact much, although Remus kept making friendly advances. Severus, who had for the longest time avoided all kinds of relationships for obvious reasons, was still undecided how to react to that.

Draco politely extended his hand to their DADA teacher. "Hello, Professor."

Remus looked from one to the other and then shook his head. "This is not going to do... Please, Draco, call me Remus. I'm not your professor right now, and we're related, if only through my marriage. Since Severus is your godfather and Harry's, too, you won't be addressing him as 'Professor', either, and I think it would be awkward if only Hermione called Severus 'Professor' and only Draco addressed me in that manner. Can't we just dispense with formalities for the holidays?"

"Sure, that'd be great, Remus!" Draco said, grinning when the implications hit him. Let his godfather try and get out of Granger calling him by his given name. This was going to be fun!

"I see you did quite some redecorating in here, Harry," Remus remarked, when they walked towards the staircase that led up to the parlour in the first floor. It had once been at the end of a long and narrow corridor, but now opened up to a rather vast hallway.

"I really like it," Hermione said, putting the wiggling toddler down on the floor so he could crawl and explore. "I always hated that long and narrow corridor." Not to mention the spectre of Dumbledore that Moody had left behind to scare the wits out of Severus.

"It was claustrophobic," agreed Harry. "We removed the wall on the left. There was nothing but the tapestry room behind it - I never understood the purpose of that anyway. Instead, we built a walk-in closet for shoes, coats and our Quidditch stuff. Much more practical."

"So I see. And you painted the walls, too. Astonishing, how much brighter everything looks."

The walls had been painted white, and instead of dusty oil portraits and shrunken elf heads, they were more sparsely decorated with magical pictures that showed serene landscapes. One looked like it had been taken in the Scottish Highlands, another one was of the sea, almost like the coast near Shell Cottage. They reached the staircase that lead to the upper floors. "You should have taken that wall out, too, if only to get rid of Walburga Black's portrait..."

The black curtains that hid the old hag were still drawn, the only means of defence against her hateful ranting.

"Oh, we didn't have to!" Harry said. "It turned out that the only way to remove the sticking charm on the portrait was to get her consent to take it off. And she consented."

"Really?" Severus raised his eyebrows. "How on Earth did you manage that?"

"We offered to reunite her with the rest of the family at Malfoy Manor." Draco grinned evilly. "She was quite thrilled at the prospect."

"Until she found out that Bellatrix' and Rudolphus' portraits are now hanging in the wine cellar, that is," added Harry, smirking.

"I could say 'I hope she's happy now', but I guess I don't really care," Severus said. "It seems she finally has the company she deserves."

"If you got rid of her, why did you keep the curtains?" Remus inquired, pointing to the alcove that was still covered with velvet hangings, which had raised Teddy's curiosity. Slightly alarmed, Harry followed his gaze and looked at the toddler, who was playing with the tassel hanging from a drawstring.

"Well, the thing is... Teddy, no!" Before Harry had a chance to prevent him from doing so, Teddy had pulled on the drawstring, which made the curtain slide apart and reveal a huge painting. As expected, it didn't show the portrait of the former mistress of the house, but a misty, wintery landscape that was painted with an astonishing depth that almost made it seem three-dimensional. There were snow covered trees, a river and a waterfall in the distance, and you almost felt like you could walk right into the picture, despite the fact that it seemed strangely surreal. In fact, it looked like a scene from a Disney movie - a bit too sweet and too sugarcoated to be realistic.

But it also was animated. The mist seemed to clear and suddenly the snowy landscape was bathed in soft, pastel evening light that actually made the ice sparkle. It reminded Hermione of the unbearably sweet pink frosting on a weeding cake. Then, just as she thought it couldn't get any more kitschy, two unicorns with long flowing manes and tails glided so gracefully into the clearing that they seemed to be floating.

While she stared mouth agape at the unexpected scene that had unfolded in the formerly dark and narrow corridor, Harry hastened to draw the curtains over the frame again.

"What in heaven's name is that?" Hermione asked, flabberghasted.

"Ehm... it's Luna's doing. She thought..."

"It's a gift from a dear friend," Draco said defensively, and pulled the curtains open again with determination. "Now that you've all seen it, there's no reason to hide it again."

"Well, I could name one," Severus offhandedly offered. "It's hideous."

"No, it's not!" his godson protested, while Hermione elbowed her teacher slightly in his rips and admonished: "Don't be rude!"

"I happen to like it," Draco insisted, raising an eyebrow at her that really mimicked his godfather's expression perfectly. "She worked on it for over a week and I think she is an exceptional artist." Hermione wasn't surprised that Draco was defending Luna's painting. Ever since her capture at Malfoy Manor, Draco had been quite taken with her.

"She painted that herself?"

Harry nodded. "She was so enthused about our change of decor that she wanted to add more positive energy to the place. She was on about those Glue-Me-Lose again that she wrote an article about – the picture is somehow to help against them. To be entirely accurate, she practically begged to be allowed to do it. I know she just wanted to be kind and helpful, and I simply didn't have the heart to say 'no' to her."

"Yes," Severus muttered under his breath. "I actually know that feels." Hermione barely refrained from elbowing him again.

"If you like it, why do you hide it behind the curtains?" she asked, trying to look at the picture more objectively. It was rather nice, from an artistic viewpoint.

"Because it looks like something you would find as a cover of a fantasy novel for a 12 year old," Harry bemoaned unhappily.

That would have been Hermione's concluding statement, too, had she been asked to make one.

"Well that, and because that particular shade of pink doesn't go with the colour scheme of rest of the room," Draco added. "It's okay as long as it's white and misty, but every time they hear voices, the unicorns appear."

"If it's any consolation: It's a vast improvement over Madam Black's screeching and screaming," Remus said diplomatically.

"Hor-see!" exclaimed Teddy and happily clapped his hands.

"Well, he seems to like them. And we have to keep the curtains open in any case, as Luna is coming, too. I invited her to spend Christmas with us when I found out that her dad is in St. Mungos."

"Xenophilus is ill?" Hermione asked, surprised. "What happened?"

"Well, apparently, he's not been stable ever since Luna's abduction. His condition got worse over time. The healers are not sure he will recover."

"Oh no! How horrible, poor Luna! She never said anything."

"He was only brought to St. Mungo's three days ago. When Luna told me, I asked her to come and spend Christmas with us. She was really thrilled. I wonder why she's always so surprised when people include her in anything."

"Because people rarely did. She doesn't really have any friends. Everybody thinks she is weird."

Severus snorted. "Miss Lovegood, most definitely, _is _weird."

Draco threw his godfather an angry glance. "You don't have to be insulting! She's a very kindhearted person!"

"It's not an insult, her weirdness is a fact. But it does in no way negate that she is also exceptionally kindhearted and at times uncannily insightful."

"When is she coming?" Hermione asked.

"She wanted to visit her dad first and come right afterwards. I guess she'll be here in an hour or so. Why don't we all go up to the parlour and finish the decorations before she arrives?"


	2. Friends Who are Dear to Us

_A/N: As always, my dear friend and beta Dreamthrower has proof-read my attempts at English writing! Thank you for always making time for me in your calendar and for doing such a great job explaining the eccentricities of the English language! You're awesome!_

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**Friends Who Are Dear to Us  
**

An hour later, Luna had arrived, and they had all gathered in the parlour. Severus and Remus were playing a game of chess, while Draco and Luna seemed to be having a lot of fun keeping Teddy entertained and out of their hair.

Harry and Hermione had both settled comfortably in the window niche that had a nice view onto the small park in the middle of the square. A built-in bench with cozy cushions had transformed it into a bright reading nook that was Hermione's favourite spot in the parlour.

The entire room had changed a lot. Gone were the heavy draperies and the silk wall covering; the dark wood panels on the walls had been stripped and repainted. The furniture were still grandmotherly antiques, and the piano was still in its corner. But the sitting group in front of the fireplace had two additional chairs, a soft carpet and a coffee table. The transfigured Christmas tree was set up next to it. Hermione had to admit that now that it was decorated with baubles, garlands and tinsel, it didn't look all too garish.

She still took great offence at the mistreatment of the garden gnomes though, who seemed no happier in the warm and dry manger than they had been out in the cold. The fact that Teddy was constantly hovering over them like a giant about to devour them probably heightened their discomfort. The threat was real: Remus had been having a hard time stopping him from putting them into his mouth and chewing on them. He had finally placed the entire nativity scene under an impenetrable shield charm, so the child couldn't touch them. Which didn't prevent him from trying.

"Come and find me, Teddy!" said Draco, drawing away the toddler's attention from the manger by waving at him, before fading out of view again. They were playing the wizard's version of hide-and-seek, which allowed for invisibility charms. Teddy squealed happily and crawled towards Draco's hiding place with surprising speed and determination. He clearly was familiar with such tricks and didn't seem puzzled when his prey vanished right before his eyes.

Harry sat with his leg pulled up, back resting against the padding on the wall and watched with fond amusement how the young man was sneaking around the room to escape the teething toddler.

It was hard to believe that this was the same boy as the arrogant prat who had always given himself such airs and looked down on them. It was even harder to believe that he had taken the Dark Mark and tried kill the headmaster.

Hermione's gaze wandered to her teacher, who sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, eyes fixated in concentration on the chessboard on the small round table in front of him. This was another scenario she had never seen before: The last living Marauder playing a peaceful game of chess with their arch nemesis. Well, as peaceful as wizard chess could possibly be. The game didn't seem to be going well for Remus, judging by the many pieces that had already fallen victim to those of his dark opponent. It certainly didn't spoil his good humour – he seemed relaxed and well at ease.

"It's amazing, isn't it," said Harry, who had followed her gaze. "If someone had told me last year that I'd be celebrating next Christmas with Professor Snape..." His voice held a note of wonderment and disbelief. "It makes me almost want to pinch myself to see if I wake up."

"It's still kind of hard to get your mind around it," she agreed, still smiling. Harry had no idea how much more his mind would have to bend if he knew the full story - like that she had fallen for their least liked professor – hard. Even harder to grasp was the fact that Hermione was pretty sure that he had become especially fond of her as well.

"I'm glad, though," Harry reflected. "I hadn't realised how bad it made me feel to have so much hatred in me. That was the hardest thing to do... letting go of all the anger, the fear and the guilt. It had been so consuming that it ate up every other feeling."

"Yes. For a long time, I felt empty, paralysed and depressed. Sometimes, it was hard to even find the energy to even get out of bed in the morning."

"I guess I have been very self-centred in the last couple of months," Harry said ruefully. "I should have noticed much sooner."

"Don't blame yourself, Harry. We all had a lot on our plates the last year."

"I'm just glad we're also all slowly getting better. You look a lot better, too."

"I am much better now. I have Professor Snape to thank for that. He's been helpful in more ways than any of us would ever have imagined." He had seen to it that she got better physically by making sure that she was able to eat properly again and no longer wasted her energy with ineffective measures to keep her anxiety in check. He had been helping her get her magic back under control. He had listened to her, allowed her to unburden her mind and had offered counsel and encouragement. But most of all, he had been helping her to sleep again and offered an escape should a panic attack strike again. For the first time in years, Hermione felt safe again.

"That's one more thing then that I owe him for," Harry acknowledged softly.

Teddy and Luna had finally caught Draco despite his efforts to blend in with the furniture.

"Okay, that's enough..." the blonde said, chuckling and peeling Teddy off his leg. "You go and pester someone else now. I haven't really spoken to my godfather since I came here." He picked the boy up and handed him to Luna. "Whatever you do, try to keep him away from the manger. The holy family might be out for revenge."

Luna, who had no idea what Draco was talking about, pensively bent her head, contemplating his cryptic advice. Teddy was squirming and tried to get down from Luna's arms. He clearly was up for more action.

Harry got up and took a bauble from the tree. After putting an unbreakable charm on it, he crouched down next to Teddy and offered it to him, hoping that it would stop him from molesting the garden gnomes. It did seem to do the trick. Luna gave him a bright smile.

"Will you watch him for a moment? I'd like to fetch my cork necklace... I think I just spotted a Nargle in that mistletoe."

"Uhm... sure," Harry agreed, having momentarily forgotten Luna's strange obsession with the invisible beings that infested Christmas decorations. She seemed so normal at times.

"She hasn't changed at all, has she?" he asked Hermione, when the ethereal creature had light-footedly skipped out of the room. "On everybody else, the war has left an imprint that will never go away. She, despite everything she suffered, is the only one who doesn't seem affected."

Hermione sat down on the sofa next to him and smiled fondly. "Luna, in all her eccentricity, is the sanest person I know. It's like evil simply cannot touch her." She paused. "I'm mostly concerned for Ron," she admitted. "He seems completely okay at times, and then he gets overly emotional over something trivial... it scares me."

"I know. Losing Fred has been the final blow. But he's got Lavender now, and though I never thought I'd ever say this - she's actually good for him. She knows how to handle him and is not quite as annoying anymore. Though I'm still happy that I don't have to spend Christmas with her."

"Does Ron know that you invited Draco and Severus over?"

"Yes. And you can imagine how happy and understanding he was about it."

"I presume he threw a fit?"

Harry grimaced and once more sat down next to her. "Sort of. He just can't get his mind around the fact that so many things - and so many people - turned out different from what he thought them to be."

"Yes," Hermione said with a slightly bitter note. "He thought he had it all figured out - even our future, what we all would be like. It was something he clung to, during the war, this picture he had in his head, a happy ending like he envisioned it. Him and me married, you and Ginny married, all of us still close friends, standing at the station together and putting our kids on the Hogwarts Express. I probably had seven kids, like his mum."

"No," said Harry, defending his friend. "In that, you're doing him injustice. He always knew you were not like Molly. He might not have said so, but he always saw you as a person who would accomplish great things in life. I guess he saw you as Minister of Magic. Probably with only two kids - so as not to interfere with your work too much." Harry grinned.

Teddy had lost interest in the bauble, as it wouldn't fit into his mouth either. Inspired by Harry's idea, Hermione took down a little rocking horse decoration from the tree. After having put an enlargement charm on it, she put the delighted baby into the seat and set it in motion with a perpetual moving charm. Remus noticed and gave her an appreciating smile. Teddy made gurgling happy-noises.

"What if I don't want to be like that?" Hermione asked softly. "What if accomplishing great things and becoming the leader of the wizarding world is not something I aspire to?"

"Then don't," Harry answered simply. "It's your life and your choice, Hermione. Just because Ron thought that's what you wanted for your future doesn't mean that it has to be. I certainly won't marry Ginny. Instead, I find myself trying to gather enough courage to finally ask Draco out..."

"You want to ask me on a date, Potter?" interrupted Draco, who had reappeared without Harry and Hermione noticing, and plunked himself in the sofa next to Harry, who blushed. This certainly wasn't how he had planned on doing it. How to get out of this with his dignity intact?

"Well, I wanted to ask you if you would like to go out with me... like to a movie," he clarified self-consciously. "Or... you know, to have a drink somewhere. I didn't mean to imply... That is, if you're not..." Harry broke off, his cheeks feeling hot and his palms sweaty. Smooth, he chided himself, really smooth!

Draco took mercy on him before Harry could make more a fool of himself. "Pick me up at Malfoy Manor any evening of your liking before term starts again." His tone was surprisingly warm. With a teasing smirk, he then added: "Just don't bring me flowers." Before Harry could start wondering what the hell he meant to imply with that - that he wanted to hang out, but not in a way that suggested romance? - he leaned closer and said softly, but loud enough for Hermione to hear: "Chocolate pralinés are okay, though."

Hermione laughed and kicked his shin. "Don't play games with Harry. If you hurt him, I swear I'll punch you again." Her tone was joking, but she really hoped that Draco would take her warning to heart, because she was dead serious about it. Harry had really stuck his neck out there, and he was rather vulnerable in that regard.

"You mean not _any_ games?" Draco asked back, arching his eyebrow suggestively. "Wouldn't that be a pity..."

"Hey, thanks, Hermione, but I can watch our for myself," protested Harry, still trying to get over his embarrassment.

"I know you can," she replied, then smirked. "But you don't know how to throw a proper uppercut. I do."

"No worries, Granger, he's safe with me. I certainly won't do anything that might put me at the receiving end of your wrath again."

"You hit my godson, Miss Granger?" Severus asked, having overheard her comment. His velvety voice, unexpectedly close or hear ear as he was leaning down, sent pleasant shivers down her back. "I guess I was wrong to blame all of your transgressions on the influence of the two dunderheads at your side..."

"_Now_ you're getting it!" Harry laughed. "Ron and I were mostly harmless. She's the one you have to watch out for! Draco literally didn't know what hit him."

Draco made a face and touched his chin, as if he could still feel it in his jaw. "Don't remind me - not one of my most shining moments, that one... I stood there like an idiot - being hit by a girl!"

Remus laughed and took a seat on the sofa next to Harry. "Our Hermione has always had a mind of her own, and she's quite fierce," he said affectionately.

Hermione gave him a smile. _Our_ Hermione he said. While _her_ professor kept calling her 'Miss Granger', when all she wanted was to be exclusively _his_. "I thought we had agreed to call each other by our first names - at least while we're here..." she said with mild reproach. "Or are you so averse to the idea - Severus?"

Severus didn't know what to reply. He certainly didn't mind hearing his name from her lips, although it had a strange effect on his heart. But little did she know that she had been _Hermione_ in his head for far too long - he feared if he started saying it out loud, he wouldn't ever be able to revert back to 'Miss Granger'.

"As far as I recall, we didn't agree on anything," he said evasively, turning his armchair so that it became part of their group again. "Remus here just made suggestion that no one objected to at the given moment." Hermione's face fell, and he instantly regretted having voiced what she might interpret as rejection and hastened to correct his mistake. "But if forgoing formalities while we're here is what everybody wishes, I shall, of course, acquiesce in the arrangement."

"Forgoing formalities will be hard if you keep talking like that, Severus," said Lupin jestingly. "Can't you ever relax?"

"No, he can't," Draco replied, laughing. "It's simply not in his nature."

Hermione said nothing, but she knew better. She had seen him relax. Not very often, but sometimes, when they had been sitting in his office reading and researching, he had unconsciously let his guard down and relaxed his stiff pose. It's not like he had slumped in his chair or put his feet on the desk, but he hadn't sat like he did now - even with one leg up and his ankle resting on his knee, he didn't look casual. He still looked imposing, attentive, fully present. She wondered how he mustered the energy to keep it up.

The visual impact of her rather formidable teacher became even more pronounced when Luna returned, wearing her butter beer cork necklace over her bell-adorned Christmas sweater. She smiled cheerfully as she picked up a now slightly sleepy looking Teddy from the rocking horse and sat down next to Remus. The boy snuggled in her arms, obviously content, and idly played with the corks dangling so close to his face.

"He is adorable," said Luna, glancing down at the child.

"Yes," Remus agreed, his voice full of affection. "I'm so happy to have him. If it hadn't been for Teddy..."

Luna nodded, knowingly. "He's keeping you anchored in this world. I did that for my dad, too. But now that I'm almost grown-up, the pull on his soul has grown so much stronger. He's soon going to pass over."

Hermione reached out and put her hand on her arm. "Harry told me. I'm truly sorry about your dad, Luna..."

Luna turned her big, always slightly dreamy eyes on her. "Oh, don't be. He's going to be fine," she replied. "He's going to be joined with my mum again, and that makes him really happy. With everything that happened - me being captured, him being tortured, Death Eaters threatening him and forcing him to go against everything he believed in, his imprisonment in Azkaban... it fractured his soul."

Her words, for some reason, made the hair on Hermione's neck rise. Harry seemed to feel the same. "What do you mean, his soul is fractured?" asked Harry. "Your dad didn't kill anybody..."

Luna bent her head slightly to the side and gave him a curious glance. "You think that killing someone is the only act that can fracture your soul or tear away pieces? Grief can do that as well. Every time someone we love dies, a tiny part of our souls crosses over with them." She looked at Harry. "Haven't you felt it? When Sirius died?"

"Of course it hurt. And I was incredibly sad. But that doesn't mean that my soul is fractured now."

"Your soul has healed. But if the part that goes over with the person who died is too big, it leaves you diminished, and sometimes people don't recover from that. That doesn't mean their love was stronger, just that their soul was more fragile."

"I can feel it, too, this pull," said Remus calmly. "If it wasn't for Teddy..."

Luna nodded, understanding. "For my dad, it's getting too painful. So I'm trying to tell him that it's okay if he wants to die and be reunited with mum and I."

"What do you mean, be reunited with you... you're not dying!" Hermione felt an icy shiver going down her spine. Surely she didn't consider suicide? Luna seemed so utterly composed. But she was always composed - it was uncanny. But Hermione couldn't well ask her outright if she was considering killing herself, could she?

"No, I'm not. I guess my soul is more like leather - very sturdy. But he'll be with the part of me that's already on the other side."

"I'm afraid I don't understand..."

Luna smiled. "Who says that time exists on the other side? A part of us is already there - has always been there, since even before our souls bonded to a mortal body. We just can't communicate with the part of our consciousness that stayed behind. My dad will meet the part of me that has remained where all life came from. Just like Remus' wife is already with him and her son right now."

"You mean we all have souls that are torn?"

"Not torn," Luna corrected. "In essence divided." Hermione, once more, was overcome with an eery feeling. The words triggered a memory, and when Hermione caught Harry's gaze, she suddenly remembered: Dumbledore had said it to them when Harry had told him of Voldemort's snake. Harry had been wondering what he had meant, and had discussed this cryptic remark with Hermione and Ron numerous times.

"Like two parts of a whole that are still connected," Luna elaborated. "We sometimes communicate with this other part of us when we dream."

It was a novel theory to her. Hermione's parents had not been very religious people, but Hermione was familiar with the concept of souls passing on and eventually being reunited with loved ones from various religions. What Luna suggested - that a part of herself was already in a different sphere, connecting every being to the other side - was intriguing, because it happened to match what she had read in a book about quantum theory... something about two parts of a particle having an unexplained instantaneous connection to each other, even when a great distance apart. She would have to get back to that book, sometime.

Was it possible? Luna seemed so sure about it, and it gave her this utter serenity. But Luna seemed so sure about everything - even the Crumple-horned Snorkack. Maybe that mystical beast existed, after all.

"So you're saying that... you'd be okay with your dad... passing over?" Somehow, Hermione knew that Luna wouldn't consider it 'dying'.

Luna lifted her shoulders. "I'll be very sad and I'll miss him. But I understand. We had planned to join an expedition to South America next summer. It's lead by Rolf Scamander - he's a Mazioologist, and actually the grandson of Newt Scamander. I promised my dad that I'd be going without him if he can't make it. But his concern for me was holding him back. I keep assuring him that I'll be fine, but he wasn't convinced of that - until I told him of Harry's invitation. I guess he's hopeful now that I won't be all alone even without him."

"Of course you won't be alone," Hermione said, leaning over and taking her hand once more. "We all here have little or no family left, but we still have each other. You've been such a great friend to me for a long time, especially in the last months. I guess I never told you how much I appreciated having you for a roommate or how grateful I am for your help."

"Me too," said Draco, a bit uncomfortably. "I should have told you. But you always seem to know these things, anyway. And I didn't want to impose on you."

"Impose on me?"

"At Hogwarts. I didn't want you to feel obligated to me. No need to share more of my misery."

Hermione finally understood. Draco was a pariah at Hogwarts. More than herself, more than Luna, he didn't belong anywhere anymore. And he hadn't wanted to drag anybody down by association.

"But I want to share your misery, if that's where you are," Luna said, frowning. "You shared mine. I would really like to be your friend. I never had any."

"Luna, we _all are_ your friends," Harry felt the need to clarify. It seemed Luna had missed this point. "I'm sorry if we I somehow failed to make you know that. We'll be there for you whenever you need us."

"That is very sweet of you." Luna's gaze circled the people sitting around with a bright smile, and her eyes seemed even more misty than usual.

Much to Severus' relief, Kreacher chose this moment to materialize with a soft pop by Harry's side. He, too, was almost unrecognizable. He was wearing an immaculate piece of toga-type cloth that had been made out of a silken pillow case. Someone had adorned the expensive looking material with the Black family crest, and a golden sash with a tassel that looked suspiciously as if it had formerly served to hold back curtains kept it tight around his waist. Kreacher was wearing his uniform with visible pride.

He snapped his fingers and the table in front of them was instantly loaded with a tea tray, cups and plates, as well as serving platters and a three tier cake stand loaded with finger food. There was a selection of sandwiches, mince tarts, freshly baked scones with jam and clotted cream, gingerbread and festive-themed pastries.

"Oh my gosh, Kreacher!" exclaimed Hermione in surprise. "This is - unbelievable! Whenever did you prepare all that?"

"Master Potter said that the Noble House of Black would entertain guests for Christmas," he replied with dignity. "Kreacher knows his duties."

"Wow, this looks great!" Harry said, equally amazed. "I had thought of tea and a few cucumber sandwiches - not a feast like this. You're really one amazing elf! Thank you!"

Kreacher humbly bowed his head, but everyone could see that he was in fact trying to hide his blush and the huge grin on his face before he vanished.

Draco looked thoughtful. "I would never have thought I'd ever see that elf like that. He was at our house for a couple of days... in our fifth year."

"Yes, I remember. It was also in December. Sirius had told him to get out of the kitchen, which he took as permission to leave the house."

"He was so nasty and foul-tempered then and wouldn't stop reviling you all. Who'd have guessed so much hatred could turn into such devotion."

Hermione thought that it wasn't that unusual after all. They had seen it happen before. She saw it when looking at Draco and Harry now.

"It was probably the Horcrux," Harry said, shrugging. "He'd been sleeping with it for years. Wearing it for a couple of hours per day almost drove Ron, Hermione and me to murder each other within just a few weeks."

"Well, the Horcrux surely played a role," Hermione interjected, "but it clearly also shows that treating an elf well works so much better than abusing them like your father abused Dobby."

"He wasn't abused," Draco objected with a frown, but relented when Hermione quirked a brow. "Well, at least not on a regular basis. He was just treated like a house-elf, not like a trusted servant. In my family, house-elves were always regarded as inventory."

Hermione opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind as far as wizards' treatment of other magical creatures was concerned, but Draco lifted his hand in dismissive gesture. "Please, spare me, Granger. I know your views on the matter - _everybody_ knows your views on the matter since that ridiculous campaign you started in our fourth year."

Harry and Severus chuckled, Hermione glared, and Draco raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not trying to justify it, alright? I'm just saying how things were. The fact that Kreacher is tripping over himself to see to Harry's needs proves that my parents' approach might not have been the best one."

Hermione huffed. "Perhaps you should apply that insight to the treatment of garden gnomes. After all, they are poor and defenceless creatures as well."

"The manger stays!" Draco insisted, not willing to compromise on the decorations.

"They are pests, Hermione," Harry reminded her, siding with Draco on this one.

"Yummy!" said Teddy, chewing happily on the crown of a holy king that he had finally managed to get his hands on.

'*'*'*'*'

After they had finished their tea, Hermione sat down at the piano, idly plunking the keys and humming a Christmas song when Draco suddenly slid onto the small bench next to her.

"I didn't know you knew how to play the piano, Granger."

"How would you know - there are no musical instruments at Hogwarts."

"Unfortunately not. I always missed my piano."

She looked at him in surprise. "You play, too?"

"I learned to play when I was still a little boy."

Of course. Why shouldn't the Malfoys own a piano? They had white peacocks and a manor. "Would you like to join me?"

"Do we have any sheets?"

"Yes, we do. Here..." Hermione handed him a booklet. "How about this one? It's a classic Christmas carol."

"I'm only playing if you do the singing."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You want me to sing? I'm not sure if I'm intoxicated enough for that..." They had tasted some of Kreacher's home-made egg-nogg while Remus and Severus had shared a fire whiskey after their tea, but by far not enough to have had any effect.

"Well, you obviously must have some musical aptitude if you play the piano. How bad can your singing be?"

"Not good enough to earn me any prizes, but not bad enough to send everybody running from the room, I suppose..."

"Fair enough. Then let's hear..." Draco started playing, his fingers gracefully dancing across the keys. He was good, Hermione had to admit. Way better than her. Her technique was flawless, but even she had felt that her playing missed intuition and true passion, and unlike Draco, she had no talent for improvisation. Very much like in potions, she realised. She was always reluctant to depart from a recipe, deviate from a plan or go beyond the framework of given instructions, as doing so made her feel uneasy. Not having anything to go by was too squishy for her liking.

"Come on, Granger..." Draco coaxed her. "I know my talent is awe-inspiring, but you agreed to sing..."

She hadn't, truly. But they had always sung Christmas carols together at home, so this was nothing new to her. She was just a bit more self-conscious because of her audience. She cleared her throat, and when Draco skilfully brought the song back to the opening tunes, she joined in, adding voice and lyrics to the notes. Surprisingly, there was immediately an easy harmony in their performance. Hermione intentionally kept her attention on Draco at first, trying not to think about the other people watching her, but after a while, she became oblivious of her surroundings and was just enjoying the music and the singing. This felt like home.

They did song after song, and Hermione never once took notice of their audience. Draco however, did. He particularly couldn't help noticing how the eyes of a certain dark haired wizard repeatedly wandered to the singing girl, though he tried to be inconspicuous about it.

He let the final tunes of their song fade out, and when he didn't start another one, Luna, Remus, Harry and Severus applauded, and only then did Hermione's gaze wander to the sitting group. She smiled and made a mock curtsey, before sliding onto the seat next to Draco again. "This was fun. How about doing a duet?"

Draco shrugged. "If you want to. But only if you tell me what's going on between you and Snape first." He said it almost conversationally and in a low enough voice to keep it private, but the girl at his side stiffened. "What do you mean?" she asked, taken aback.

"You should have seen how he looks at _you_," he answered quietly, observing her reaction. "And you haven't been very inconspicuous about ogling him, either."

"Don't be ridiculous!" She tried to be nonchalant, but she had always been the worst actress. All Gryffindors were. "So how does he look at me?" she then asked, badly hiding her curiosity.

He indulged her, telling her what he suspected she longed to hear. "Like he's totally besotted with you."

Hermione stifled her snort. "Severus Snape does not look besotted," she said in a low voice full of conviction. "I don't believe he could produce such an expression even if he tried."

"Not in a way that would be discernible to the average person, no," Draco agreed. "But if you know him like I do - and I've known him since I was a child - you get to notice the telltale traces of emotion that leak from the cracks in that inscrutable mask he's wearing most of the time. You, on the other hand, are blatantly obvious with your facial expressions. You have the hots for him, don't you?"

She blushed, confirming both of his claims. "I refuse to deem that with an answer," she whispered stiffly. "He's a teacher!"

He chuckled and leaned closer to her ear. "Hush, and don't get you knickers in a twist, Granger," he told her a bit patronizingly. "I'm not judging you. Certainly not for your taste, given that mine's turned out to be rather out of the ordinary, too." God, he still had a hard time getting his mind around it. He felt weirdly attracted to the boy wonder that had been his arch enemy for years. Talk about irony and quirks of fate. And he still wasn't sure if he even was gay. He didn't think he was - he had slept with Pansy, and surely had never felt attraction for a guy ever before. The very idea was frightening, shocking, embarrassing - but there it was. He couldn't deny feeling attracted to Harry. He was such a do-gooder, so blatantly honest and righteous that it hurt. Draco wasn't quite sure if he was appalled or utterly fascinated by it. And he was kind of cute with his stunning green eyes and his hair sticking in all directions. He had an exceptionally nice bum, too. Not that he had ever taken notice of a guy's bum before. It probably was the tight muggle trousers.

"I'm just curious..." he said, making sure to keep playing so that their conversation remained private. "Those detentions you had with Severus, your assisting him with his grading and brewing for the hospital wing, and that research project or whatever it is that makes you spend so many evenings in the dungeons... Is it all a ruse?"

"No, of course not, what are you implying?" she asked, giving off a curious mixture of indignation and guilt. "He's an honourable man - he'd never do anything to compromise a student in his care!"

He decided to push her a bit further. Riling Granger up had admittedly always been fun during his Hogwart years. She had always reacted so predictably - like clockwork. A push here and a nudge there and she went off like a firecracker. He would get all the information he needed just by watching her reaction. "Wouldn't he?" he asked, as if doubting her claim. "Then why did he tell my dad that he was shagging you?" That was no lie. His father had once gloatingly shared that juicy piece of Death Eater gossip with him, instructing him at the same time to keep his mouth shut and not spread it further. At the time, Hermione had only been in her fifth year - a teenager who had just reached puberty. Draco had found it disturbing on so many levels, and impossible to believe. "My parents believed it was the reason you always had better potion grades than I did."

Hermione looked outraged and was shaking in her seat. "I had better grades in Transfiguration and Charms, too, and I wasn't shagging Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick either!" she hissed furiously, having a hard time keeping her voice down. She was obviously just short of jumping out of her chair and storming out on him. "You should really know your godfather better than that!"

"Relax, I do," said Draco calmly, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down on the chair. He had pushed her far enough. "Which is why I never believed it, although Severus himself wouldn't deny it outright when I confronted him about it."

She stared at him with disbelief in her eyes. "You seriously asked him if he was... being intimate with me?" She didn't dare imagine the Potion master's reaction. Or how much the mere question must have hurt him. "What did he say?"

"Not much. He was rather vague. That it was none of my business what he did or didn't do with any of his students or how he chose to discipline them. And then he told me that he was able to face himself in the mirror every morning, and asked me if the same was true for myself. That, admittedly, had me confused. It had been one of the many hints that had made sense only much later."

"And was it? True for yourself, I mean?" she asked, eyeing him with keen interest now.

"You don't ask the easy questions, Granger, do you?"

"Neither do you."

He chuckled at that. "Well, I guess we both know the answers to all of our question already, anyway." When Hermione's brows remained drawn, he sighed and shook his head. Really. Gryffindors always had a hard time grasping things that weren't spelled out for them. Again, he wasn't sure if that was charming or exasperating. "Of course I hadn't liked seeing myself in a mirror at the time. Actually, I avoided it as much as possible. And it's equally obvious that something is going on between my godfather and you. He clearly has feelings for you. A blind man could see it with a stick."

She refused to acknowledge it and kept avoiding his gaze.

"You know what, Granger?" Draco asked, leaning closer and whispering into her ear once more. "I'm even going to prove it to you... Just for the fun of it." The mischief in his eyes clearly alarmed her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a slight undertone of panic in her voice. "Draco..."

He smiled wickedly and winked at her when he got up from the sofa. "Don't worry, Granger," he said, not bothering to keep his voice down anymore. "You'll love it! One way or another..."


	3. Far as the Curse is Found

**Far as the Curse is Found**

Hermione only found out what he'd been up too much later in the evening, when they were all gathering for a light evening meal. She was the last to arrive in the kitchen, where Kreacher had set up a buffet. Given they were in for a lot of treats and an opulent Christmas dinner tomorrow, Harry had insisted they keep it simple and informal for this night. The kitchen had always been their preferred gathering place while the house had served as Headquarters, and under Molly's rule, it had always smelled invitingly of whatever was sitting on the stove. She had kept it stocked with a soup or a stew all the time, as there had been a lot of coming and going in between order meetings, and always hungry mouths to feed.

Just when Hermione was about to enter the kitchen, Draco, who had been lingering near the door, unexpectedly turned to leave the room, meeting her on the threshold. Not for a moment did she believe it was coincidence when they both instantly got caught by the charmed mistletoe hanging above their heads. Harry had placed them pretty much on every doorway, and so far everybody had been keenly aware of and avoiding them.

"Oh-oh..." said Draco, loud enough for everyone else in the room to turn their heads. Remus grinned. "Finally – I thought we'd never get to see any mistletoe action while we are here."

Luna smiled benevolently. She probably thought that kissing was a nice pastime, no matter under what conditions. Harry and Severus, on the other hand, both wore rather peculiar expressions on their faces.

Draco put his arms around Hermione's waist and pulled her close. "Well, looks like we have no choice. Let's get this over with, I really need the loo..." Only Hermione could see his mischievous grin, and only she could hear what he whispered in to her ear when he leaned down. "I'm doing this for you, Granger... Trust me and play along." And with that, his mouth came crashing down on hers in what probably looked to everybody else like a passionate kiss. Hermione, who had still been wondering what he had meant, was totally taken by surprise by his unexpected assault and was unable to react. Though he made no move to coax her lips apart, she had no doubt that to their audience, the way his open mouth moved over hers must look as if he was kissing her deeply and ardently, especially since his hand was cradling her head while his other arm was pulling her firmly against him.

When he finally let go, Hermione was flustered, her lips were red and Draco was smirking. "Here's your proof, Granger..." he murmured smugly into her ear and slightly turned her head so that she was facing the others. Severus' gaze shot daggers at his godson, and if looks could kill, Draco would have dropped dead on the spot. The wordless, but nevertheless blatant proclamation 'Mine!' was furiously expressed by his eyes and the clenching of his jaw, his stiff posture and the fingers that had clenched into a fist.

Totally unperturbed by this, Draco widened his smile. "And there's mine, too..." he whispered, sounding quite pleased with himself when his eyes landed on Harry, whose face wore a peculiar mixture of anger, disappointment and sadness. Remus looked a bit confused, Luna dreamy.

"Sorry, Granger," Draco declared loud enough for everyone to hear when he let go of her. "I just couldn't let the opportunity pass to find out if kissing was only disappointing because Pansy was the wrong girl for me. Turns out you're the wrong girl, too. Don't take it personally. I'll probably have to try a guy for a change. Maybe next time I'll get caught under this thing with Harry, and hopefully it'll be better than this."

"You're a prat, Malfoy!" Hermione said crossly, although in truth, she couldn't really be angry with him. She understood now what he had wanted to prove, and though it irked her that Draco had obviously discovered their secret, he had also presented her with undeniable evidence of Severus feelings.

"Don't thank me just yet," Draco said softly under his breath. "Just wait until he gets caught under the mistletoe with you. I guess we'll both get lucky sooner or later..."

*'*'*'*'*'*'*

Hermione slipped into the library and quietly closed the door behind her, breathing a sigh of relief. As fond as she was of each and every person currently occupying Grimmauld Place's parlour, she felt the need for at least half an hour of solitude before she could even think about going to bed. She hadn't realized how unaccustomed to company she had become. The evenings spent in the quiet of the dungeons seemed to have made her a bit of a recluse, much like the person whose company she so often sought out.

Even after dinner, Teddy had shown no signs of tiring, and Hermione had wondered where the child got the energy to move around so relentlessly and to produce so much noise in the process. True, those were cheerful tones – laughter and a lot of high-pitched squealing – but exhausting nevertheless. At least, _she_ had found it exhausting to watch and listen. Harry and Draco hadn't been helpful in Remus' attempts to calm the kid down. Before Hermione had excused herself, the boys had been busy building toy block towers on the floor that faked real explosion noises whenever Teddy crashed them. The toddler had been so excited by this that he would probably keep going until he dropped to the floor himself.

Hermione settled in her favourite chair in the library and picked up the book she'd last been reading from the side table. This room was her favourite place in the house. Given that it didn't contain anything but book shelves from floor to ceiling and a small sitting group in front of the fireplace, it hadn't required many changes to make it feel warm and welcoming. The curtains had been replaced by new ones of a more cheerful colour; there were new cushions and rugs, and a nice, muggle design floor lamp had been added. Other than that, the library had the typical charm and smell of a place stuffed with books. Too bad the Order had thoroughly weeded out the shelves' content and done away with all the tomes that touched on anything of a darker nature. The remaining books were rather trivial, though sometimes amusing, given that they reflected the rather narrow-minded views and interests of the Purebloods who had collected them.

The library had always been her refuge. Even when Grimmauld Place had been filled with people while serving as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, hardly anyone had ever ventured here. Of course, there was now another person in the house who valued books and quiet, so Hermione wasn't at all surprised when Severus entered the room not long after her.

"I apologize for the intrusion – I thought you had retired," he said a bit hesitantly when he found the library occupied. "It is not my intention to disrupt the quietude you have found here, but would you mind if I joined it?"

"Not at all," Hermione said, amused at his stiff eloquence paired with the slight note of desperation in his voice. "I suppose you seek refuge from all the ruckus in the parlour as well?"

"It's only one kid in there, but I swear it feels like at least ten," he sighed, looking pained. "I find myself desperate for some quiet."

"By all means, you're always welcome to join me..." Hermione smiled, offering a chair. "Harry and Draco really seem to be enjoying exploring their inner child. Entertaining Teddy is just a convenient excuse. I guess it's understandable, given that Harry never had a normal childhood, and I can well imagine that the same is true for Draco. His parents didn't strike me as the types that would joke and play on the floor with him."

Severus snorted. "Hardly. Although he surely had all the toys and gadgets a child could wish for, including building blocks with explosion sounds." He took his time perusing the shelves before choosing a book, then settled down in the chair opposite from her. They sat in amiable silence for about ten minutes, gazes fixed on the books they were reading, until Severus cleared his throat. "So... what was this peculiar episode with Draco all about?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He might have succeeded if Hermione hadn't noticed that he'd been staring at the open page of his book without reading for at least five minutes before finally voicing what was obviously occupying his mind.

"The kiss, you mean?" Hermione made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, he was just being a prat again. He wanted to spur Harry into action, I suppose. And he enjoys getting a rise out of me."

"Did he?" Severus asked after another brief pause. It sure had looked that way. They had looked rather cosy while sitting at the piano together, whispering to each other the whole time. It was pathetic, unreasonable and morally questionable, but he had felt the sharp sting of jealousy even then. When Draco had kissed her like he had done such a long time ago, his hand had instinctively twitched for his wand.

"Did he what?"

"Get a rise out of you."

Hermione looked up. "Yes, he did. But not in a good sense." She frowned. "I think he's on to something..."

"Meaning what?" He hadn't been entirely convinced that Draco wasn't trying to make a pass at her until the little scene in the kitchen, when he had almost blatantly declared his interest in Potter.

"I'm not sure...," Hermione said, looking slightly troubled. "He inquired about us – what we were doing all the time we were supposedly brewing and about the detentions you gave me. He also told me what you once told his father... about how I supposedly earned my grades..."

"Did he now?" Severus said pensively, fixing her with his gaze as if trying to do the same.

"Yes. And he said that he once confronted you about it, but that you neither denied nor confirmed his unsavory allegations."

"Of course I didn't. It's a Slytherin tactic, Miss Granger: Keep your mouth shut as often as possible and let people draw their conclusions from what you're _not_ saying. With Draco, it was especially difficult to find the right balance... I couldn't let on too much, but I still had to try and make him question the obvious."

"It worked," Hermione told him. "He said he didn't believe any of it."

"Draco has always been brighter than most people."

"You know, I still don't get this about you leading the Death Eaters on..." Hermione said, clapping her book shut. Her mind went back to the conversation she and Severus had had in his office a couple of months ago – the night it all had started. Severus had confessed that he had made his fellow Death Eaters believe that Hermione was earning her good grades by most questionable means, demeaning her and himself with the ugly lie. "How could Lucius ever believe what you told him about me? That you were taking advantage of your students in such a way? The two of you were friends... Didn't he know you at all?"

He raised his brow in surprise. "Who said we were friends? He brought me into the Dark Lord's circle and treated me graciously because he thought he would profit from it in the long run. Death Eaters know no friendship. Just alliances."

"But you're Draco's godfather," Hermione pointed out. Surely that had to mean something.

"Yes. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Draco got my protection, I got Lucius' sponsorship. We both hoped it would serve our interests."

"Still, Lucius and Draco should have known that you'd never force yourself on a woman – much less a student – in such a manner," Hermione insisted. Everybody who just knew him a little bit should have known that.

"Whoever said anything about force?" Severus asked back, crooking his eyebrows meaningfully. "There are plenty of other ways to manipulate the innocent: Seduction, coercion, blackmail, bribery..."

Sure, she didn't doubt that he was capable of all of that. Still, the kind of intimacy he had hinted at required both parties to lay themselves bare, and he would have made himself vulnearable as well. The fact that he was such a buttoned-up person in every sense of the word was in stark contrast to the notion of him maintaining sexual relations of any kind with a student, especially one he despised.

"There were plenty of other rumours about you, and frankly, they would have been easier to believe: That you were a vampire, for instance, or that you were only so mean and moody because..." She stopped herself before she could say something awkward and embarrassing.

"Because?" he inquired, as if he had no idea what she was talking about, though Hermione strongly suspected that he just found it amusing to see if she would dare to actually voice it. Of course, she had to rise to the challenge. "Because you had no means of stress relief. There were rumours that you were a virgin." There!

"Indeed", he just said, not twitching a brow. It was impossible to say if he found such speculations outrageous, embarrassing or amusing.

She had always found them ridiculous. The man was oozing sex, at least to those who were receptive to his dark allure. There was no denying that he was a very sensual man – his voice, his eyes, the way he moved his body: so subtle, stealthy, but very powerful and always commanding. She had never harboured doubts that outside Hogwarts he would not be lacking opportunities and willing witches. But he had never given rise to speculations that he might hold anything but disdain for his students, regardless of their gender.

"I never heard rumours of you being a lecher or a paedophile," Hermione told him firmly. "Surely there would have been, if there had been a grain of truth to them."

"Must I remind you that we Slytherins understand the concept of discretion? Surely, if there had been a grain of truth to it, I would have made sure that no rumours ever arose within the castle's walls. Those only circulated among the Dark Lord's followers, who were advised by the Dark Lord himself to not spread them further. Which of course, only served to fuel the gossip."

"But what started them in first place?"

"I did."

"What?" Hermione's chin fell. He had given the Dark Lord and his followers cause to think that he was taking advantage of his female students? "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I told you that when I was a young teacher, the occasional student became infatuated with me. It's hardly surprising in a boarding school full of hormonal teenagers. I was only about three or four years older than they were at that point, and there wasn't a large choice of male teachers young witches could project their awakening desires on." Admittedly, he had taken better care of himself at that time, too. He had only started neglecting himself after Lily had died. He knew now that he had become slightly depressive at the time – finally realising the full extent of the bad choices he had made, finding all of his hopes and dreams shattered, feeling burdened with guilt and grief, branded with the Dark Mark for life and caught in a job he had never wanted in the first place.

"Yes, I guess it _is_ normal for teenage witches to think about and discuss their teachers in a rather inappropriate way," Hermione admitted. "Though I can honestly say that there has never been a Gryffindor who was truly infatuated with you. Well, other than me, that is. But Lockhart and Remus – yes, they have inspired romantic notions in some witches..." Including herself, for a very short while. Fourteen or not – she was still embarrassed about that.

Severus snorted. "You were really never lucky with your male teachers: Not counting the ones that were over a hundred, ghosts, half-giants or half-goblins, you had to make do with teachers that were possessed, frauds, werewolves or imposters."

Well, put like that, romanticizing a Death Eater didn't seem quite so outlandish. "What did you do about girls who became infatuated with you?" Hermione inquired, curious.

Severus smirked. "I gave them an Anti-Delusion-Potion and detention, of course. And made sure they always left my office quite disgusted, sometimes even violently sick from the vile things I had made them do. They weren't able to give specifics, though, due to the Tongue-Tying-Curse I put on them."

"Meaning you made them degut flobberworms or harvest useful organs from mice," Hermione correctly deducted.

"Yes, but that's not what the Death Eater kids chose to believe. Their suspicions – and a few remarks I made towards Lucius – were enough to start the rumours. People always believe what they want to believe."

"You used a Tongue-Tying-Curse to even further such gossip? Why, in God's name?"

Severus sighed. "Because it played right into my hands. The Dark Lord never trusted anyone before he had discovered his or her weakness or most ugly secret. He needed something he could hold against his followers, to use as blackmail if need be. My weakness at that point was Lily, and I couldn't have him know that. So I gave him my position – something I was never particularly fond of anyway, and only retained because he had ordered me to. He wasn't aware of my misgivings, but believed me to be grateful for the job. I also needed to convince him and my fellow Death Eaters that my views on Muggleborns had changed since my own school days – convince them that I held nothing but contempt for them and considered them lowly servants I had a right to exploit. So I made it seem as if I only abused Muggleborns. It helped maintain my cover."

On occasion, it had even allowed him to save one of his students... Muggleborns who had fallen into the hands of the more perverted and sadistic Death Eaters. Most likely, they would have been killed after whatever other fate had awaited them at their hands – if he hadn't appealed to the Dark Lord that his brethren were about to rob him of his favourite playthings. Graciously, he had been allowed to obliviate the girls and take them back to Hogwarts.

"Did nobody wonder why your alleged abuse of female students was never taken to Dumbledore and why no girl ever filed a complaint?"

He looked at her darkly. "Granger – if I had really done any of the things they thought I was doing – I would have made sure that none of the girls ever spoke a word about it. There are means to make people – compliant."

She didn't ask how he had supposedly made _her_ compliant. The seduction part with the promise of better grades had probably been sufficient to convince Malfoy. "It hurts to think that they believed that about you – and me."

Yes, it doubtlessly did. And he still felt responsible for tainting her reputation like that. But it had been necessary – especially with her.

"I'm sorry. But it was a necessary measure of precaution."

She furrowed her brows. "Precaution?"

"I had wanted to be able to claim you as one of my 'teacher's pets' in case you ever got into a situation... like you almost did at Malfoy Manor. Of course, nothing I could have said would have gotten you out of it by then – you were not just _any_ Muggleborn at that point, but one on top of the Dark Lord's 'most wanted' list." He still felt an icy shiver run across his spine when he thought about the day the rescuers of the wizarding world had gotten themselves caught. "Having a reason to claim personal interest in you – however depraved – was meant as safeguard for you just as much as it substantiated my contempt for Muggleborns, and – allegedly, for Dumbledore and his morality. Little did they know that Dumbledore didn't care about morality all that much... not if straining it offered a strategic advantage over our enemies. He was fully supportive of my role in this."

"He knew?" Hermione was shocked.

"Of course he knew. I needed him to have my back, just in case official accusations were made." And he had needed the old man's absolution. Regarding this as part of his official mission had made it a little easier to deal with. Easier, certainly not easy. The fact that he had come to think about Hermione in just the way he had pretended to think about her in the last three years didn't sit well with him and was part of the reason why he had difficulties with their out-of-the-norm relationship.

"I understand. I'm glad then... that you were willing to have your honour compromised to help assure my safety. Though it's still making me feel dirty to think that Voldemort and the Death Eaters thought it was okay for you to do as you claimed you did. That anybody thought they had the right to treat Muggleborns like that – not human beings, but playthings, lowly servants to a supposedly superior race, to live or die or suffer at their mercy."

She had the quintessence of this ideology written on her skin. Hermione unconsciously pulled on her left sleeve, as if to make sure it still covered her scar.

"It shouldn't matter to you what those people who called you a Mudblood believed of you," he said gently, noting her reaction. "They were the scum, the disgrace, not you."

Of course he knew what she was hiding beneath her sleeve, although he had never seen the scar. She was always wearing long-sleeved pullovers. Granted, it was winter now, but even in Potions, when other students rolled up their sleeves, she never did. On the contrary – pulling on her sleeve to make sure it was down seemed to be an instinctive gesture whenever she was reminded of the incident.

"Why are you hiding it?" he asked.

His question took her by surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Your scar. Why are you so desperate no one ever sees it?"

"Because it's ugly," Hermione replied a bit defensively, confirming his suspicion that she was self-conscious about it. "And I don't really need the visual reminder."

"May I see it?"

"Why?" The look she gave him was wary, unsure.

"Because I think you're not doing yourself a favour pretending that it isn't there." He was no psychologist, but it seemed like a rather obvious strategy of avoidance. She literally didn't want to face what had been done to her, and how it had changed her. "It won't work in the long run, you know. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about." Avoidance was his second name. And look how much good it had done him to avoid everything that carried the potential of hurting him and making him vulnerable – like honesty, emotions, other people.

"You never show your left arm, either..." she pointed out, deflecting.

No. That, too, he had always avoided. In part because it hadn't seemed wise to call to his students' attention to the fact that their teacher was a marked Death Eater – Muggleborns would probably never have set foot into his classroom. But that wasn't the only reason... And of course, the Gryffindor he was facing wasn't too shy to name the real one.

"You were ashamed of it, too," she challenged.

"Yes," he admitted. "Because it's a mark of shame – the reminder of a wrong decision, a fatal mistake, the price I paid for my insecurities and my ambitions. But yours are not. They are battle scars. You withstood torture and came out victorious. You should wear them with pride."

She hesitated a moment, and although he could see that she didn't agree with his opinion, she relented and raised her arm, slowly pushing the sleeve of her soft wool jumper up and revealing the offensive word that Bellatrix had carved into her flesh. In angry red, ragged and bulging, the letters stood out from her otherwise unblemished skin. The wounds looked raw, as if they were merely a day old, not almost a year. He immediately understood why and felt icy rage spread through him again. If Bellatrix wasn't dead, he'd find her and kill her, making sure she suffered before she died. "It still hurts?" he asked, only to have her confirm for what he already knew.

"Sometimes. It's tender and sensitive to touch, and no matter what clothing I wear, the material feels scratchy and uncomfortable on it. Occasionally, it burns all of a sudden, just like it did when... you know. It's just phantom pain."

He slowly shook his head. "No, it's not."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I suppose Bellatrix used a knife to do this?" Hermione nodded, confirming his suspicion, and Severus gave a pained sigh. "I saw her use it before. It was her favourite torture device, as it added insult to injury. To a wizard, a blade is crude. Wizards use wands to fight, not blades, knives or pistols that tear visible wounds into peoples' flesh. Denying an opponent even the courtesy of a wizard's weapon is a means to humiliate as much as to cause pain. But the knife was a special design, intended to cause pain even long after the wounds were inflicted."

"Madam Pomfrey told me that it was a curse wound."

He frowned. "But surely it wasn't her who healed you after you escaped... She would have known better."

"It was Fleur. She used several healing charms on me when we arrived at Shell Cottage. It helped."

Severus shook his head. "Only initially. In the long run, it made things worse. Curse wounds like this must not be healed with magic. Bellatrix knew that. She would have healed you herself if you hadn't escaped – to give you these scars as a visual and palpable reminder of the pain she inflicted on you."

Hermione snorted. "As if I could ever forget!" The memory was etched into her memories just as sharply as the letters that had been cut into her skin. "I asked Madame Pomfrey if she could do something about it, at least make the scar less sensitive. But she said that wounds caused by dark curses can never be fully healed."

Severus didn't say anything, but the look on his face told Hermione that he didn't agree with the matron's assessment.

"What?" Hermione asked in a tone that demanded an explanation. "Spell damage caused by dark magic can't be completely undone, that's a fact. Otherwise George's ear could've been regrown, or Bill's and Lavender's scarring wouldn't be so bad."

"The usual healing techniques and potions are ineffective against dark curses," Severus confirmed, but added rather reluctantly: "You can only fight dark magic with dark magic." He unbuttoned his long sleeve, pushed it up and bared his lower arm. Where formally the Dark Mark had marred his skin, only silvery-white scar lines remained.

Hermione took a sharp breath and instinctively made a move as if to touch him. Just as instinctively and almost imperceptibly, he shied away.

"You got rid of the Dark Mark?" she exclaimed, her eyes flying up to his face. "How?"

He gave her a pointed look. "With dark magic," he repeated, wondering if she hadn't understood or was hoping for a different explanation, finding the one he had given too shocking.

But Hermione looked as if she had solved a riddle. "The law of the similar..." she nodded, eyes brightening in understanding. "Of course! But what does that mean? I suppose you didn't kill a unicorn, sacrifice a virgin or cook a baby?"

He snorted. "Not this time. Spells are considered dark if they demand the spilling of blood and the causing of pain. That doesn't mean, however, that it has to be the blood and the pain of anyone but the caster himself. Dark wizards just usually prefer to use someone else's pain and blood rather than their own."

Hermione frowned. "So you're saying magic is still dark if the blood and the pain are your own?"

"Well, it depends on purpose and intent. It might be considered a sacrifice, but blood sacrifices are usually considered dark, too, unless you're making the sacrifice for someone else. "

"So using the blood that is gained by deflowering a virgin is considered dark magic?" Hermione pressed. The thought seemed to perturb her.

Severus, however, found her trail of thought perturbing. What had brought that about? "If said deflowering is done in a magical ritual with the malicious intent of using the power derived from her pain and her blood, it is certainly considered dark," he answered her question, not quite daring to voice the questions that came to his own mind. "Powerful magic can be performed by spilling an innocent's blood or the blood of innocence."

"But surely it can't be dark if the blood is willingly given..." the girl insisted, a curious undertone in her voice that seemed to beg him to agree with her. He couldn't help but wonder... What had that Weasley done with her? Though it wouldn't surprise him to learn that the pubescent boy had lacked the patience, consideration and self-control the act had called for, Severus found it hard to believe that the dunderhead had paid enough attention in Potions class to know that the few drops of blood from a broken hymen were a powerful potion ingredient and carried a power of its own. He would have thought it even less likely that he would use the opportunity to harvest it when sleeping with his innocent girlfriend for the first time, not to mention using it in a magic ritual. And why in Merlin's name would she have agreed to that?

Not knowing how to address the issue, he didn't reply right away, which made Hermione try and strengthen her argument. "After all, it's intention that matters! When you used the 'Avada Kedavra' on Dumbledore, it wasn't dark magic."

That made him raise his eyebrow. "Wasn't it?" he asked back. "One has to summon hatred to perform it."

"Yes, but was it hatred for Dumbledore?" she countered.

Again, he took a moment to answer. "It was only hatred focused on him," he finally conceded. "Hatred for what he had asked me to do. Hatred for what had brought us into this situation, for the Dark Lord and for myself."

"And no hatred was involved when I lost my innocence and saved the blood," she stated firmly.

"_You_ collected your blood?"

"Yes, of course. Why would I waste it? It's a powerful and valuable potion ingredient."

Of course – _she_ would have remembered that. And obviously she had been rational and detached enough to take the necessary steps even in a such a moment... Severus wasn't really sure if he should feel bad for her or admire her for it.

"So – does it mean I performed dark magic?" she still asked, a shadow of doubt in her voice once again.

"No, of course not," he assuaged her. "A woman saving her own blood – that's ancient magic – female magic. It used to be the traditional gift of a bride to her groom on her wedding night. If you ever want to use it in a potion... blood willingly given is pure, just as unicorn blood, and just as hard to come by nowadays."

"Why is it hard to come by?"

"Because few people still know its worth or the correct way to collect it. A lot of witches lose their innocence while still teenagers, in a heated moment. They do not think about the value of what they are giving away. Of those who do, few choose to sell it. Besides, it's impossible to determine if the blood was willingly given or not, and if you add the wrong kind, it will ruin a benign potion. Guard it well, Hermione, it's a powerful ingredient for many healing potions."

"I will." She paused, and when she looked at him again, her eyes had a hopeful expression. "Would I be able to use it to get rid of Bellatrix branding?"

He shook his head regretfully. "You can't fully get rid of it. The magic of her curse is embedded in your skin, in your blood. You can't counter dark magic with purity."

"But you got rid of the Dark Mark!"

"It was different. The Dark Mark's purpose was to bind me to my master. With him gone, the curse was left without an anchor and whatever was left of the darkness I was able to draw into an object." Well, he had drawn it into a small, spelled blade he had kept imbedded in his skin for a while – it hadn't really been a nice procedure. Given that it wouldn't work on her wounds, there was no use in giving her specifics. "Bellatrix aimed to scar, to mar, to brand, and she used a cursed object to do so. It doesn't make a difference whether she lives or not."

"Then why are you telling me that dark magic can be used to fight dark magic if nothing can be done about my mark?" she asked, convinced that he must have told her for a reason.

"I didn't say _nothing_ can be done about it," he corrected reluctantly. "The wound is not healing properly because it was treated magically, which enclosed the curse. It needs to bleed out."

"I'd have to re-open the wounds?" Hermione asked wide-eyed.

"Yes. You'd have to repeat the processes by which those scars were made – with pain and blood. The skin would have to be cut open, the curse would have to be reapplied, and the wounds would have to be left untreated, so they can heal on their own. And you can't use any medication or potion to numb the pain, at least not beforehand, as it would counteract the dark magic of the curse."

"I'd have to do it myself?" Now Hermione looked truly horrified. As much as she wanted to get rid of the ugly scars and everything they stood for... "I don't think I could do that." She shuddered at the thought. The pain and the memories would render her incapable of even finishing a single hateful letter.

"It doesn't matter who does it. But it will be difficult to find a healer willing to help you. Using dark magic goes against their work ethics."

There was a long pause. Then came the inevitable question. "Would you do it?"

Severus suppressed a sigh. He had feared it would come to this as soon as he had mentioned the possibility of removing the curse with dark magic. That's why he had hesitated. He wanted to refuse. The idea of cutting into her flesh, making her bleed and hurting her in the same way Bellatrix had when she had inflicted these wounds upon her was gut-wrenching.

Yes, he had been forced to witness, to perform and to stomach worse acts than this while posing as a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, and he knew if he had to, he'd be able to. But Hermione was no Death Eater the Dark Lord had found guilty of treason, no Ministry official withholding crucial information, and no nameless witch who was to be punished for defying their self-proclaimed leader. She, of all people, should never suffer harm from his hands.

"Would you be able to go through that again?" he asked back, his face serious. "What Bellatrix did to you... I know it was traumatising."

"It wasn't so much what she did..." Hermione replied softly. "What really disturbed me – what still gets to me – was her intention. Not only that she found pleasure in hurting me. She revelled in humiliating me, degrading me by marking me as a non-person, some lower life-form." She looked at her scar, then held out her arm to him, as if willing him to see more than just the letters on her skin. "These scars are a constant reminder of what she and Greywolf thought me to be – a piece of meat to be used for their pleasure. In trying to undo her work, you'd be doing the opposite – you'd be giving me my dignity back."

But he'd still be hurting her in the process. "It would be painful, no matter the intention," he warned once more, needing her to be absolutely clear about what she was signing up for.

Unconsciously, Hermione straightened her back. "If the experience at Malfoy Manor has taught me anything, it's that I'm able to withstand some pain. I'm just wondering if it's worth it... Won't I still have a scar, given that the wound can't be treated?"

"Yes. But it'd be far less visible than the angry red scarring that shows now. Like a normal scar, it'll fade over time and wouldn't be painful anymore."

She looked sadly at her arm. "But the word will remain." It was the worst of it. The word would forever remind her of what she was in the eyes of some Purebloods. Most Death Eaters might have been arrested or killed, but that didn't mean that the ideology didn't live on in the minds of the zealots.

"Yes. Unless..." He reached for her arm again to inspect the scar. Deep in thought, his thumb stroked over the letters on my skin as if he wanting to erase them with his touch. He hardly seemed to be aware of what he was doing, but Hermione noticed, and held her breath at the unexpected gentle caress.

"I can't undo each individual letter that is there," he finally said. "But when I re-cast the curse, I should be able to move and twist them, and force them to rearrange themselves into a different word."

Mudblood? Try as she might, Hermione had no idea how rearranging the letters could yield another legible English word. But maybe even nonsensical words like 'moodblud' or 'oddbloum' were preferable to the offensive word Bellatrix had carved into her flesh. Getting rid of it was definitely worth some pain.

She held her up arm to him. "Do it, please."

"Now?" he asked, taken by surprise.

"Why not now? I'd rather not spend days thinking about it."

Gryffindors. Always taking the bull by the horns. But in this case, he understood. He had gotten rid of his Dark Mark as soon as he'd had enough strength and the solitude to do so. And only after it was gone had he felt remotely clean again.

"I'll have some preparations to do." Like finding a suitable knife. He pointed to the fireplace. "Is it connected to the floo?"

"Yes. But... you can't floo to Hogwarts, can you?"

He smirked. "I can. Privilege of a Deputy Headmaster." He took the box of Floo Powder from the mantel. "Are you really sure about this?" he asked again, hoping that repeating what had traumatised her so much would not undo all the healing she had done since then.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Whatever the scar looks like afterwards – I'd rather remember you trying to help me when looking at it than remembering her meaning to hurt and humiliate me. At least we will change the memory connected to it."

He searched her face, but only found determination in her eyes. He nodded. "I'll be right back."

*'*'*'*

Severus returned about a quarter of an hour later, to Hermione's slight amusement carrying a leather case that almost looked like a doctor's kit. The similarities became even more pronounced when he opened it and took out a bottle of Blood Replenishing Potion, Calming Draught and some Muggle bandages.

"Draught of Peace?" Hermione inquired when she read the label. "I thought I wasn't allowed any potions for this."

"You aren't. This is for me."

"Oh..."

"I thought it might be helpful if my hands weren't shaking with nerves and if I didn't get sick over cutting a highly offensive word into your arm." He said it in a dry tone that was probably meant to sound funny. It wasn't. Not at all. Only now did Hermione realise what she had asked of him. She blanched.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking stricken. How could she have asked him to do this, after he told her that no mediwitch or wizard would willingly use dark magic? Because he had been a Death Eater once and thus shouldn't be queasy? Because it didn't matter if he got his hands a little more dirty? She had never thought about him that way. But she knew that he himself had. She was horrified by her own selfishness. "People always ask you to do things for the 'greater good', disregarding how you feel about it or whether you want to do them. I never wanted to be one of them. Please, forgive me. I'll find another way."

"You... what?" Severus seemed puzzled for a moment, until her words and their meaning fully registered with him. "No, there's nothing to forgive." Of all the people who had ever wanted something from him, she was probably the only one who had earned the right to ask. She was the only one he was willing to help of his own volition, not out of some sense of obligation. But again, he didn't have the words to tell her that. "I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't willing to do it. I'm just not going to enjoy it, but then, neither are you. You probably won't find anyone else who is familiar with the curse Bellatrix used and who doesn't have scruples about turning to the Dark Arts for healing."

"But that's just the thing! I refuse to see or treat you as the person one turns to for the dirty jobs! It's not fair..."

"Hermione, stop it," he said, putting a finger on her mouth. It silenced her instantly. Either that, or his involuntary slip of tongue when using her first name. "It's alright," he assuaged her, "I can do it. And I want to erase every remaining trace of Bellatrix just as much as you do. Not because the scars look ugly – because of the ugliness they stand for. You shouldn't have to live with a reminder of it for the rest of your life when it's within my power to prevent it. I just fear that re-experiencing what happened in Malfoy Manor might transport you right back into your nightmares, and I don't want to end up in them as your tormentor."

"You couldn't," Hermione said in a voice of conviction. "You already have a place in my nightmares. As my saviour."

It was one of these moments again, were her words reached out to him and touched him in places her hands or lips never could. But he felt it, strongly. It was almost painful. But only because those places were not used to tender touches at all and thus especially raw and sensitive. But he knew that the pain and the fear were a part of his own healing process, just like they were necessary for hers.

He pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. "You'd better lie down on the sofa. I don't want you to faint and fall."

Hermione settled on the sofa, and he pulled a chair close so he could sit next to her. Then he took a log from the basket with firewood and, after a moment of contemplation, transfigured it into a long and smooth piece of wood that resembled a splint. He put a cushioning charm on it and a sort of handle on one end before he placed the contraption across his lap. "Here, put your arm on this. You can hold on to the top part if you like, but I'll still need to restrain your arm on it. You will instinctively try to tear it away, and I'd rather not have you do that while I'm holding a knife to your flesh."

"Okay." Hermione tried her best to gather her Gryffindor courage and not to show her nerves. It would only make things worse for him. With more determination than she actually felt, she obeyed, trying to find comfort in the physical nearness of their position. Severus conjured four silken strands of cloth, using two to tie the splint to his thigh and the other two to tie her arm to the splint. Then he spoke a cleaning charm on her arm and took something that looked like a fountain pen out of his case.

Hermione gathered its purpose when he spoke the cleaning charm over it, too. "A Muggle pen?" she asked, bemused.

"It has a rather sharp tip, I'm afraid. It's easier to handle than a knife, and I didn't want to take a page out of Umbridge's book and use a quill. Still, it may be easier if you do not look."

"No. I tried to avert my gaze when Bellatrix did this. I want to be looking at you." It would hopefully erase the memory of Bellatrix's mad and Greyback's lustful face.

"Tell me if you need me to pause or to stop."

"It's only eight letters. Go ahead."

Only eight letters, but she felt every single one of them. It hurt, very much so. But it was nothing in comparison to what Bellatrix had done. She wasn't high on adrenaline as she had been the first time, but she knew that she would survive, that she was in safe hands and wasn't threatened by worse than what she was enduring right now. She also wasn't scared, sick or revolted. Looking at his highly concentrated face while he carefully retraced each and every insulting letter, every so often checking on her with a quick sideward glance, was totally different from looking at her tormentors. As she realised, pain inflicted with the intent to heal by someone who cared was much easier to bear. It was a _good_ kind of pain, if anything such as that existed.

Still, while she refused to make a sound, she couldn't prevent the building of cold sweat on her forehead and burning tears in her eyes. By the time he was finally working on the last letter, they were falling freely, and she couldn't help a hitching of her breath and a whimper escape her mouth before she tightly pressed her lips together again.

"There. It's done," he finally announced, exhaling deeply, too, and quickly putting the offensive tool aside. She was rather pale, but he had to admire her iron will. She had neither cried out nor cursed him nor fainted. "Now I'll have to recast the curse and force the letters into different positions."

"What will it be, then?" Hermione asked, wiping her eyes with her free hand and attempting to make her voice sound firm. "Blumdodo? Old Dumbo? I can tell Luna it's a magic animal I'm chasing..."

"Oh, I think I can do a little better than that," he said, amused by her suggestions.

Hermione struggled to sit up and eyed the freely bleeding wound. "Your trousers!" she then exclaimed. "They'll be ruined!"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Just like you to be worrying about my trousers now! Stay down until after I have put the bandages on you, or you might still faint."

Again, she wordlessly complied. She was feeling a little dizzy. He raised his wand to the bleeding letters on her arm and muttered an incantation. Or rather a curse.

The letters blurred, and Hermione gasped when she felt them heat up. She watched in horrified fascination as they started crawling beneath her skin like small black snakes, interchanging position. Some also turned upside down, others ended up mirrored or inverted. Then all movement stilled and they came to rest in a sea of blood on her arm.

Severus carefully wiped it off with an antiseptic wipe. With held breath, Hermione inspected the result of his work. The letters that had spelled MudBlood in Bellatrix's messy handwriting, now, in an unorthodox, but strangely cheerful scripture read: 'poWeRful'.

"Severus..." Hermione exclaimed in awe and felt tears well up in her eyes again. It was beautiful. Almost poetic. He had taken Bellatrix's derogatory insult and had turned it into a word that literally held power – a word of encouragement and positive reinforcement, a reminder of what she was: A witch, not a victim. And no matter how bad the circumstances... they might make her bend, but they wouldn't make her break.

Overcome by emotion, she threw her free arm around his neck, buried her face on his chest and cried. This time, the tears she shed were tears of relief and of joy – purifying and liberating. And when she felt him awkwardly pet her back and briefly return her embrace, they were also tears of happiness.

* * *

_A/N: Actually, I did the word transformation in Window's Paint program exactly like described: Mirroring the 'd's into 'p's and turning the M upside down gives you __WupBloop__, which you can rearrange into __powoBpul__. Just by twisting, stretching or bending the letters, you can turn the o into an e, the __B__ into an __R__ or even the p into an handwritten '__f__'. Unfortunately, Fanfiction doesn't support different scripts._

_I'm currently using a print as my profile picture. If I can do it with Paint, I'm sure Severus can do it with magic. :)_

_Interesting fact: Hermione only gets the 'Mudblood scar' in the movies, not in the books. In fanfiction centering on Hermione, though, this has been treated as canon, as far as I can tell._


	4. Make the Yuletide Gay

_A/N: To all my British – and not so British – readers:_

_Writing this story really was an effort given that I'm not British and thus unfamiliar with English traditions. I had planned to stick to them and did lot of research which left me with rather confusing information. I finally had to admit defeat after reading this on Wikipedia:_

"_In the North of England, North and South Wales, the English Midlands, Scotland and in rural and working class areas of Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, people traditionally call their midday meal dinner and their evening meal tea (served around 6 pm), whereas the upper social classes would call the midday meal lunch or luncheon and the evening meal (served after 7 pm) dinner (if formal) or supper (if informal).[10] This differentiation in usage is one of the classic social markers of English (see U and non-U English). However, in most of the south of England, the midday meal is almost universally called "lunch", with "dinner" being the evening meal, regardless of social class."_

_However, 'Christmas Dinner' is – as I was given to understand by all Brits I spoke to – in fact a very late lunch or an early afternoon meal, but definitely not 'dinner' as most people would understand it. It is followed by 'tea' (low tea) in the evening, when Christmas cake might be served (with cheese). _

_I assume that if you're not British, you might be as confused about this as I was. For the sake of understanding I decided to stick with expressions I feel are more universal: Breakfast is the morning meal, lunch the midday meal, and dinner the evening meal. Tea time, for me, is Afternoon tea – similar to what is coffee&cake time in Germany, just with sandwiches. _

_In order to solve the 'Christmas Dinner' dilemma, I'll try to remain utterly vague about the actual time of the day. Whereas I am thinking of everybody having Christmas Dinner at about six or seven in the evening, Brits are welcome to imagine it taking place at a much earlier time, depending on their liking. I'll have Kreacher put out finger food in the parlour at some point after breakfast. You may think of it as luncheon or an afternoon snack if you go with the idea that Christmas Dinner is taken in the evening, or just call Kreacher crazy for thinking that people can eat even more food in between the rather short time between breakfast and an early afternoon 'Christmas Dinner". _

_Likewise, think of everything that happens after 'Christmas Dinner' as 'low tea' (like in 'evening meal') if you are British, or just as a late night snack if you're not. I'll try to avoid calling it anything at all._

* * *

**Make the Yuletide Gay**

Hermione was the first to come down to the kitchen on Christmas morning. She had slept surprisingly well for most of the night, thanks to the pain potion Severus had given her. It had been a great relief to be allowed to take it at least _after_ the procedure, just no magical salve or charm that would speed up the healing process. By morning, however, the potion had started to wear off. Too uncomfortable to fall asleep again, she had decided that she might as well get up early and get a cup of tea.

The stockings she had given Kreacher to put up were hanging on the mantel of the fireplace, beneath a garland decorated with berries, pine cones and leaves. Hermione had filled them mostly with fruits, nuts and lots of sweets, but a shopping excursion to the Weasley store had given her some inspiration for a few fun gifts. There was a brain teaser puzzle and a muggle book on optical illusions for Draco, a pair of nice gloves for Remus and a pair of eatable, Christmas tree shaped earrings and a scented brush that made your hair smell nice for Luna.

For Severus, she had gotten a self heating coffee mug that read 'I don't do small talk" on the side and "Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?" at the bottom, and a bottle of self-correcting ink. Not the kind that corrected spelling mistakes, but one that after drying turned everything that had been written into flowery compliments. Hermione found that it complemented his scathing quill rather nicely, and wondered if it would be possible to slip it to him before he started correcting essays... Wouldn't that be a nice surprise for his students?

For Harry, Hermione had found a rather peculiar present in a muggle shop which she had only bought because of its name: It was a Potty Putter – a sort of mini golf set for the loo, which came with a green putting mat, a putter, a cup, a flag, balls and even a 'Do Not Disturb' door hanger. And just because she had thought it funny when she found it in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she had also gotten him toilet paper that was charmed to read a joke, show a funny picture, give hilarious advice or impart other shreds of wisdom on each sheet as soon as it was torn from the roll. Thankfully, Grimmauld Place had more than one loo, in case Harry became too engrossed with the provided entertainment while using the throne.

Harry had taken on the task of filling a stocking for Hermione, and she was curious what he might have found for her. Hermione lit the fireplace and placed a heating charm on the tea kettle. A little natural light fell from the kitchen entrance at the other end of the room which led outside. The two other windows in the room were artificial. The original charms on them had stopped working when the previous owners had died. No one had bothered to renew them while Grimmauld Place was Headquarters, though Hermione wondered why not. It seemed that wizards didn't mind dark, claustrophobic places so much as Muggleborns did, who nowadays preferred airy and open rooms. She and Harry had worked hard last week to renew the window charms. It was a tricky piece of magic, but they had finally managed to create the illusion that the windows gave out to the backyard and reflected the actual light and weather conditions. Today, it was grey and rainy. Typical Christmas weather in London.

Still, now that the room was considerably brighter with the added light and the fresh paint, the kitchen seemed almost cozy, especially with a merry fire going and the Christmas decorations up. Hermione had just poured the hot water into the tea kettle when she heard steps coming down the main staircase, and a moment later, Severus appeared. He looked surprised to find her up already.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted him with a fond smile. "You're up early, too."

"I'm an early riser. I hadn't expected to find anybody else up at such an ungodly hour, though."

"I couldn't sleep anymore."

He frowned. "Nightmares or pain?"

"The latter. The wounds started to bother me a bit."

Without a word of explanation, Severus turned on the spot and walked back upstairs. Slightly puzzled, Hermione still put a second cup on the table before she sat down, expecting him to return. When he did, he had another vial of pain potion in hand which he offered her, and fresh bandages.

"Let me see your arm," he demanded. "I need to make sure it doesn't get infected."

Hermione put it on his thigh and Severus undid the bandages. He seemed satisfied with the result of his inspection. "I don't think you will need any more pain potion after this. I'll give you a soothing Muggle salve you can put on it tomorrow."

"Thank you!" Hermione said, watching him as he carefully wrapped her arm up again. It was such an innocent contact – just a teacher taking care of one of his charges, or maybe a friend helping a friend out – but his obvious concern and gentleness filled her with warmth nevertheless. She always felt safe and taken care of when he was around, and she wished he would allow her to make him feel cherished and cared for in return. But she had the nagging suspicion that it was a totally alien concept for him. He probably didn't even expect a stocking.

"Let's finish our tea and then start making breakfast," Hermione suggested. "I can't wait to open our stockings. I hope the others won't sleep in too late, but it'll be more fun doing it together."

Kreacher, who was suspiciously absent this morning, had prepared an amazing amount of treats for them, which Hermione found sitting in the pantry under either cooling or warming charms. All they had to do was to lay the table, brew fresh tea and coffee and warm up the buttermilk pancakes, the spinach, cheese and egg casserole, the Black Pudding Potato Cake and the crumpets. There were also cinnamon rolls, smoked salmon, granola and breakfast porridge, as well as a selection of fruit and jams. The bread went onto the table as it was – wizards used a quick heating charm to bronze it to their individual liking.

Hermione briefly wondered if she should have used the dining room instead of the kitchen given that it was Christmas, but decided against it. Although six people would easily fit at the smaller table upstairs, Christmas breakfast had always been served in the kitchen while serving as headquarters. And now, with the window charms fully functioning again and the air of neglect and decay vanished, the long and narrow room with the long table was surprisingly welcoming.

"What a pity that it's always raining in London," she said with a regretful glance at the rivulets of water that were running down the window. "On Christmas day, I always miss the snow we have at Hogwarts."

"Are you a witch or not?" Severus asked, shaking his head before he waved his wand at the windows. Instantly the rain changed to snow, and everything, including the brick and the ivy, was dusted in white. Another wave of his wand had snowflakes falling from the ceiling, too, vanishing just before they could touch anything beneath, just like in the Great Hall on Christmas Day.

Hermione felt silly. The window charms had been made to appear realistic. So realistic in fact, that she had completely forgotten that they were magical and needn't necessarily reflect the real weather outside.

"Of course I am a witch," she retorted and, just to prove it, conjured twigs of evergreens to decorate the long table. It was almost as long as the entire kitchen and easily seated twelve people – more, if they squeezed together. Frowning at the large empty space, Hermione split it in half with her wand and sent the upper end out of the way. There. Much cosier.

Taking this as invitation to show off, Severus waved his wand and transfigured one of the excess chairs into a high chair for Teddy, and another one into a Christmas tree. Compared to Harry's and Draco's labour yesterday, he did it so effortlessly that it made her a bit jealous.

"Very impressive!" she complimented him, "and so thoughtful of you!" Not wanting to be outmatched, she grabbed some walnuts and transfigured them into baubles, which she floated into the tree. Severus added fairy lights that reminded her of her blue flame spell.

"Avis!" said Hermione, conjuring her favourite yellow birds, which she then transfigured into little Santa Figures on broomsticks that flew around the room.

Grinning, Severus whipped his wand at them and charmed them to sing Christmas carols, then transformed seven paper napkins into green-and-red elf hat chair covers.

"Okay, you win!" laughed Hermione. "Who would have guessed that you had a hand for decorating? And here I thought you despised Christmas."

He did. Or rather he used to. Christmas had always rubbed him in all the wrong places... parading things in front of his nose he had never experienced himself: Love, warmth, family. A time to relax and enjoy. Peace, presents, happiness. It had stirred a weird longing and envy, which he had resented. By snubbing Christmas, he'd convinced himself that it was all ridiculous and artificial anyway and that he couldn't care less about it.

But this year... There was a Christmas stocking hanging from the mantel of the fireplace that had his name on it. He'd been given a rather touching Christmas present. At least three people were truly happy for having him around for the holidays, as hard to believe as it was. And he'd received an invitation to Prince House as well – to have lunch with his aunt and his cousin. And Severus found that it put him in a strangely mellow mood that was not altogether unpleasant.

Breakfast turned out to be a cheerful affair. The smell of coffee, breakfast tea and bacon drifting through the house had eventually lured the rest of Grimmauld Place's house guests down to the kitchen. Remus was pleasantly surprised to find the high chair for Teddy. Everybody assumed that Hermione had done the decorations, and when Severus didn't claim responsibility for any of it, Hermione chose not to correct them. He probably was a little embarrassed for letting himself get carried away by Christmas spirit.

The opening of the stockings elicited cheers and laughter – not only from Teddy, who soon had chocolate all over his face. He was smiling happily and waved his rattle, which made funny noises and gave off differently coloured sparks, depending on how he moved it. Hermione found it an ingenious toy to make children pay attention to how the different effects were caused, thus familiarizing them with the concept of wands early on.

But everybody else seemed happy with their little presents, too. Severus even smiled openly enough for everyone to notice when he pulled out his cup, and declared that he would use it in the staff room from now on.

To Hermione's delight, Harry had put a magic wand into her stocking that could do twenty different, elaborate hairstyles on long hair. Some of them were rather funny – she doubted that she would ever want to wear her hair looking like a pair of antlers and couldn't think of an occasion she needed a crown or something that looked like a giant seashell on her head. But the others were really usable: Complicated braids, updos and semi-updos she would never have managed on her own. She really liked the one that left her hair down but elegantly twisted out of her face by a sort of loose Celtic knot and decided to wear it for the day.

Draco didn't participate much in the conversation – he was totally absorbed in the Rubik's cube that would show six Christmassy pictures... provided he managed to put it together correctly.

When they had finished their meal, they gathered in the living room again, where a pile of wrapped gifts lay waiting beneath the Christmas tree. Most of them were for Teddy – almost every order member had sent a gift for the boy. With the help of his father and Luna, Teddy started unwrapping them right away.

There was also a pile of presents from the Weasleys for Harry and Hermione. As usual, Hermione had received a book from Ron, while Ginny had gotten her a nice bracelet and George a box of joke products from his store.

For Harry, there was a ticket for a Quidditch game between the Falmouth Falcons and the Holyhead Harpies that all three had bought him together. And of course, there was the obligatory Weasley Christmas jumper from Molly for him, too. This year, it was red with a big, golden H on the front and two crossed wands underneath, probably meant to signify Harry's legendary duel with Voldemort.

"Let me guess – H for hero?" Severus asked, when Harry held up his new sweater.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Haha, very funny!"

"Look, I think you've got one, too!" said Hermione, surprised, holding up another wrapped bundle that felt like a Weasley jumper, but carried his name on it.

Severus looked confused. "Why would Molly Weasley knit me a jumper?"

"Well, you saved her son's life when you sent Dobby for us," Hermione ventured. "And you protected Ginny during the Carrows' reign of terror. I guess that's her way of saying 'thank you'. Not to talk about everything else you did to save our asses."

"Then let's see if you got an 'H', too..." joked Draco. "Come on, unwrap it!"

He did, furrowing his brows. The jumper he spread out on his lap was black – at least Molly had respected his signature colour. There were two big green-and-silver letters on the front.

"S.S.," mused Draco. "Hm... wonder what that might stand for... Snarky Saviour? Sneering Saint?"

"Sexy Slytherin," giggled Hermione, which made Draco raise his brow. "If you say so, Granger..."

"That's a really nice jumper," Luna added appreciatively. "I'm sure you'll look smashing in it, Professor Snape. I only think Mrs. Weasley should have made it in a different colour. But at least the snakes are silver and green."

The snakes? Severus gave the jumper a closer look and saw that the Initials were indeed two snakes. At least they weren't moving. He smirked. "It reminds me of a Christmas present a certain charitable Ravenclaw gave me many years ago. It was a self-knitted scarf that also had snakes on it."

Luna smiled widely. "You remember! It was rather ugly, wasn't it?" She looked pensive. "I had only just started knitting at the time and wasn't very good at it yet. The design was a bit childish, I guess. I wanted to do unicorns at first, but then thought snakes were a bit more manly."

Hermione suppressed a grin and saw her professor's lips twitch, too. Only Luna would consider a pink scarf with glittering snakes manly.

"Yes, thank you. That was very considerate," Severus said, managing to keep his face straight.

"You gave Severus a Christmas present?" Draco asked, astonished. "Why would you do that? And don't tell me he was your favourite teacher."

"No. But I felt he was in need of a present."

"Did he hex you?"

"Of course I didn't!" Severus said indignantly. "Contrary to certain other people, I do have some manners. Although I believe I have never properly thanked you for it..."

"Oh, but you did", Luna said, still smiling.

"I did?" Severus blinked in surprise. Try as he might, he couldn't remember. He'd never known how to express his feelings, least of all feelings as complicated as gratitude.

"Yes. You gave me an 'E' in my next essay and wrote a really nice comment beneath it."

Seriously, he doubted it. Well, not the E. If she had managed to refrain from suggesting the parts of hitherto unknown animals as a suitable substitute for the potion-ingredient they had been instructed to research, he might have given her an 'E', as it would indeed have exceeded his expectations. But a nice comment? Most likely, he had been utterly sarcastic, and she had failed to notice.

"It was comforting to know that at least one of my students didn't wish to see me dead or in despair. It was a very – touching gift."

"Then you must really feel touched by this," Harry said, pointing to the jumper and looking amused. "Getting a Weasley jumper is as good as being adopted into the family."

Severus looked horrified at the thought. Remus laughed. "It looks like you're really held high in regard by the ladies, Severus. Minerva doesn't tire of pointing out your virtues to anybody who dares criticise you, and even Molly is full of praise for you. And judging by Hermione's happy expression whenever she exits the dungeons, I daresay you are high in her favour, too."

Hermione felt the blood rise to her cheeks and quickly busied herself picking up the discarded paper wrappings from the floor to hide her blush. Remus' remark hit a bit too close to home, and Draco _knew_. Severus saved her by drawing attention to himself. "Yes, I'm such a lady's man," he said ironically. "I hide in the dungeons just to get a respite from being chased all the time."

"The billowing of your coat certainly makes you look like you're taking flight," Draco joked. "Molly should have chosen a bat instead of a snake. Would have suited you!"

"He's right!" Harry exclaimed, looking as if he had just made a brilliant discovery. "Have you ever heard of Batman? Ambivalent super hero, curmudgeon, always dressed in black with a billowing cape?"

"Oh yes," Hermione enthusiastically agreed, supressing her laughter as an image of Severus in a tight-fitting costume and a bat-ear cap on his head sprang to mind. "He's a master of disguise and an expert in espionage, often gathering information under the identity of a notorious criminal," she said, citing what she had read in a Muggle magazine once. "His intimidating and frightening appearance alone is all that is needed to get information from suspects. Batman is highly skilled in stealth movement and escapology, which allows him to appear and disappear at will... And just like you, Batman has the ability withstand telepathy and mind control! It's just as if the creators of Batman knew you!"

"Unbelievable!" declared Draco, open-mouthed. "Don't tell me he lives in a cave, too..."

"Bat-cave," Harry nodded, snickering. "It's really uncanny..."

"You nitwits have just blown my cover!" Severus said sarcastically. "Now I shall have to get my utility belt and my Baterang and make sure the secret dies with you!"

"_You_ know Batman?" Harry asked, utterly surprised.

"I thought we had just established that I _am_ Batman."

"Then you know that you can't kill us," Hermione put in, stifling laughter. "Despite having the potential to harm his enemies, Batman's most defining characteristic is his strong commitment to justice and his reluctance to take a life, which has earned him the respect of several heroes, most notably that of Superman and Wonder Woman..."

Draco laughed. "That would be you and Harry, right? Oh this is rich! Is there a book about these people?"

"Comics. And movies. I'll show you, if you want," Harry offered. "I thought about buying a gas-fuelled power generator for Grimmauld Place, so I can run electrical devices such as a CD-Player, a VCR and a TV."

Hermione shook her head. "You can't. Electrical devices don't work in a magical environment."

"Only if there's too much magical energy in the air," Severus corrected. "There were electrical appliances in my old home – like the fridge and the electric lights – that worked reliably, even though I was using magic in the house. You should just refrain from using any magic while electronic devices are on, since those are particularly sensitive to magical interference."

"See, Hermione, I told you! We won't have to live without some of the luxuries of the Muggle world once we move in here. I loved watching TV whenever I had the chance while with the Dursleys, and I don't want to make do with the wizarding wireless or you playing the piano for some music. I might even buy a computer. You can do amazing things with those..."

"I don't really know what you are talking about..." said Draco, frowning. He really didn't like the feeling of being left out.

"Neither do I," said Luna, and for a moment Draco thought she replied to his inner thoughts, not his comment. "But can I can come, too?"

"Of course," Harry said, eagerly. "And Severus has to come as well. We'll have a movie-night with Batman and popcorn!"

"Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline," said Severus promptly. "I'm afraid I already have another commitment."

Luna looked confused. "But we haven't even specified a date yet..."

"There!" said Severus solemnly. "That's how busy I am!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, Remus laughed.

Another happy squeak came from the floor, where Teddy had been crawling around. Six pairs of eyes found him sitting on Severus' foot as if ready for a ride, clutching his arms around his leg. Curious about the child's antics, Severus stretched it, lifting Teddy up in the air. "What are you doing there? I'm Batman, but it looks like you're mistaking me for my batpod. "

Teddy squealed even louder. Obviously expecting some kind of movement, he began to rock himself enthusiastically on Severus leg, as if to spur him into action. However, he literally lost his footing and started to slip sideways. Quickly, before he could fall, Severus grabbed him beneath his arms and pulled him up on his lap. Perplexed about how they had ended up like this, boy and man stared at each other, Severus' face mostly sceptical, Teddy's wrinkled in concentration. Then, much to everybody's delight, Teddy's nose slowly transformed into an enormous, beaklike organ, mirroring Severus nose, and a deep frown appeared on his forehead. It looked ridiculous in his baby face.

Draco and Hermione doubled over with laughter, Harry and Remus looked stricken, as if they feared the Potion Master's retaliation.

Severus quirked his eyebrows. "Now, I'm not exactly sure if this is insolence or admiration. Hard to tell with one who drools but doesn't talk..."

When Teddy's frown deepened and he started to look a bit strained, Remus was quick to pick him up on his own arms. "I'm sorry, I think you need to excuse us for a moment..." he said, and made for the door.

"What's the matter with him?" asked Draco, looking puzzled. Severus mirrored his expression.

"What did he think I'd do? Hex the child for wanting my nose?"

Harry grinned. "I think Teddy was about to poop. Remus probably figured you wouldn't take _that_ as an expression of admiration."

"Oh. Well, good thing he dismantled the bomb before it went off."

"Would you mind if I excused myself for a moment, too?" Harry asked, rising. "I'd like to make a Floo call to the Burrow and thank everybody for their gifts..."

"Great idea, Harry, I'll come with you..." Hermione said, about to get up as well. Severus beat her to it.

"Potter..." he said, stopping the boy in his tracks. Shit. He was supposed to call him Harry. Just why was that so difficult? It was just his first name, not an endearment! Yet somehow, he couldn't seem to get it over his lips. At least he hadn't spoken in the 'I-can't-stand-seeing-your-face' tone he had used for so many years.

The boy turned, his expression neutral with a hint of curiosity. But he didn't seem offended, thank Merlin. "Snape?" he asked back, in a matter-of-fact tone. Was there a hidden grin on his face? Cheeky! Harry's use of his surname was fully intentional – his had just been a slip of tongue.

Severus threw a quick glance to Hermione, who looked at him with a hint of worry in her eyes. His and Harry's relationship was still on bumpy terrain, and both of them were stepping carefully around each other. She was always nervous about their interaction, as if one wrong word could throw the fragile cease-fire they had reached only very recently.

Severus smirked at her. If she was upset about their continuous use of their last names, he could justifiably argue that Potter had started it. It was fine by him.

"Before you Floo to the Burrow, do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you in private."

"Sure," the boy said, sounding a bit insecure now, exchanging a glance with Hermione.

Harry would have much preferred having her around when interacting with his former teacher. Somehow, it seemed more likely that he would remain civil when she was present. But that was ridiculous, of course. Besides, if he wanted to have a relationship with the man who was, after all, his godfather, they needed to be able to talk to each other without constantly walking on eggshells. "Why don't we go to the library?" Harry suggested.

Snape nodded, and gestured for Harry to go ahead.

"I have something I wanted to give you..." Severus said once he had closed the library door behind them. He reached into the pocket of his frock coat and pulled out a leather folder that was barely larger than a cigarette box, until he enlarged it.

The now book-sized case opened in the middle and had a row of loops on each side, holding glass vials with a bluish mist twirling inside. Harry recognized it immediately. "Those are memories..."

Severus nodded. "Of your mother. A selection of moments I remember... from the day I first met her to the day I last saw her alive. Most of them are rather mundane, but... I thought you would like to have them."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise when he looked up and searched his face. Probably for the sneer he expected to see there, or a hint of malice because of some evil scheme hidden in the gesture. Who could blame him?

"Take them, Potter," Severus sighed, when Harry still stood frozen and made no move to accept his gift. "I assure you they come with no strings attached."

"I don't know what to say..." Harry said, dumbfounded. "This is... awesome. You have no idea how much this means to me..."

"I do. I wouldn't have given them to you, otherwise." Realizing that the boy was struggling for words, Severus smirked. Seemed he wasn't the only one who found these moments awkward. "You know, your friend told me the easiest and most gracious way to react if you experience an unexpected feeling of gratitude is just to say 'thank you'."

That made Harry grin. "Thank you," he said, and after a brief but deliberate pause added: "Snape."

"You're welcome," Severus answered. "Potter."

Well, he had settled that rather nicely. Suppressing a smirk, he turned to leave, but Harry held him back. "I... There is something I would like to ask you... "

Severus raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Would you like to... accompany me to Godric's Hollow tomorrow?"

It was Severus' turn to look utterly flabberghasted. "Pardon me?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to go there... it's Christmas, and my last visit was something of a disaster. I haven't been back since, but I feel like I should. For closure. And because visiting family is kind of what you do for Christmas. I would very much like for you to come with me."

Severus' face was carefully blank when he returned Harry's gaze. "Why?" He could understand why the boy felt drawn to his parents' grave on a day like this. But why would he want _him_ of all people to accompany him?

"Because apart from me, you're the only one who still cares."

"What about Remus?" The werewolf had been friend to both of his parents. Severus most decidedly had not.

"He's not my godfather. And... he didn't love her. Not like you did."

Severus gave a frustrated sigh and struggled for patience. It wouldn't do to give in to the anger he felt rising within him. It wasn't the boy's fault. He kept repeating it to himself until he felt his irritation slowly subside. How should he know any better if no one had ever explained it to him?

"Listen to me, Potter: I know what Dumbledore probably told you and what the memories I gave you in the Shrieking Shack suggested," he said slowly. "But I didn't love her like that. Lily was for me what Hermione is for you. A very dear friend. We weren't in love." Or at least Lily had never been in love with him. If he had begun to feel some kind of infatuation with her before their fall-out, it had been a new and rather short development that hadn't had the chance to grow into something more. He hated that everybody seemed to think him a love-struck fool who never got over his first love. It was pathetic.

"Even so," Harry said, not ascribing importance to the distinction. "If it was Hermione who had lost her life in this war, I'd still want to stand at her grave and commemorate her."

Severus raised his hand to rub away the uncomfortable constriction he felt in his chest at the thought of the young Gryffindor lying cold in a grave somewhere, victim of the zealots he had once sworn allegiance to. He didn't even want to contemplate the idea.

"I don't know, Potter..." he murmured, not knowing what to make out of this strange request. He hadn't been to Godric's Hollow ever since that fateful night so many years ago. He had never felt worthy. No matter how he tried, he knew he hadn't fulfilled his promise to Lily to watch out for her son. Surely, she had expected more of him than merely saving his physical hide. "I'm not sure your mother would appreciate the gesture," he finally voiced one of the reasons for his hesitation.

Harry gave him an astonished gaze. "Why ever not? You saved my life countless times! If she loved me like everybody says she did, she would feel incredibly grateful and indebted to you!"

"I think you still don't fully understand. It's much more complicated than that." Without him, Lily's son might never have been in danger in the first place.

"Then explain it to me. I want to understand. And I really would like the company. After what happened last time... It's ridiculous, I know, but.. I wouldn't be entirely comfortable, going alone. I asked Hermione, but she's even more traumatized by what happened in Godric's Hollow than I am. That snake really got to her."

Yes, Severus was well aware of that. From what Hermione had told him, Nagini was a constant feature in her nightmares. It was amazing that Harry himself seemed to have taken it in stride. But he was probably used to being in either dire circumstances or mortal peril from his early childhood on. Now, wasn't that a sobering thought.

"Please," Harry said, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to go there by myself, and I'd really like to have _you_ by my side_."_

Severus hesitated another moment, pondering the suggestion and what it might entail. Maybe it was time to face his ghosts. And he owed the boy. "Very well. I shall accompany you."

Harry's face brightened, and for a moment, Severus felt as if he was staring into Lily's eyes. "Thank you!"

Severus nodded and turned to the door.

"Can you please send Hermione in here?" Harry asked. "We should make the Floo call to the Burrow using the library fireplace. The kitchen is off limits. Kreacher is busy preparing dinner."

"I'll let her know." Severus made his way back to the parlour, where he found Draco and Remus engrossed in conversation. Luna was sitting at the piano, idly plonking a string of tunes that never actually turned into a melody. Hermione, who was humming softly to a sleepy Teddy on her lap, immediately sought his eyes when he returned, looking a bit anxious.

"Relax – he's still breathing," Severus assured her, slightly amused. Seriously, what did she think would happen? "You're supposed to join him in the library to call on your other dunderhead friends."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." She rose, holding Teddy to her chest. Before Severus became aware of her intent, she simply passed the boy into his arms. "Watch him for me, will you? I'll be right back." With a mischievous smile on her lips, she sauntered from the room.


	5. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas**

"So spill, Harry – what did Severus want to talk to you about?" Hermione questioned her friend as soon as she had closed the library door behind her. "You didn't argue, did you? He seemed a bit tense when he got back, but then, he's always kind of tense in company. Is everything alright?"

"Geez, Hermione, chill! We're fine. Very fine, in fact. He gave me vials full of memories of my mum, can you believe it? I can't wait to see them. I'll have to ask Minerva if I can use Dumbledore's Pensieve." Harry paused, then added: "I asked him if he wanted to come to Godric's Hollow with me. He agreed. We'll go tomorrow morning."

Hermione was astonished. "He really did? Wow, Harry, that's – incredible!" She sat down on the armrest of the chair, eying her friend with utter surprise. Did Harry realize how much out of his comfort zone the intensely private and closed off man was willing to go on his behalf? Seeing her friend's bedazzled expression, Hermione thought that maybe he did. "I'm really happy for both of you. Just – don't ruin it, Harry! Don't pester him with questions he might not feel comfortable answering... Remember, he's a Slytherin, and not at all comfortable exposing his feelings."

"Really? It's _his_ feelings you're concerned about?"

"Oh, don't pout! You're emotionally sturdy, like Luna; and I mean that in a good way. As to our professor... He might not look like it, Harry, but he's rather vulnerable. He just hides it really well behind his sarcasm and aloofness."

"You have really gotten to know him pretty well in these last months, have you?" Harry asked, wondering for the first time what was going on between the girl he considered his sister and their former Potions professor.

Yes, Hermione thought, they had indeed grown much closer than she cared to admit. "We spent a lot of time together..." she said evasively, "with all my brewing for the hospital and him teaching me Occlumency..."

"I'll never understand why you willingly submitted to that," Harry marvelled, shaking his head. "You must have a masochistic streak somewhere, Hermione."

"Well speaking, of masochistic... Are we going to make that Floo call?"

Harry sighed. "I guess we have to." He grabbed two cushions from the chair and knelt in front of the fireplace. Hermione still found that Floo-calling was a stupid and uncomfortable way to communicate. Unless you were still in your PJ's, it was easier to just step through and speak to whoever you wanted to talk to in person. Molly seemed to think the same thing when they found her in the kitchen. But Harry politely declined her invitation to come through, saying that they had visitors in the house and that it would be impolite to physically disappear while they were still around.

In truth, Hermione suspected he was just afraid that the intended quick 'hello' could easily turn into a something long and labourious – which was well within the realm of possibility. It seemed a plausible excuse for Molly though, who called Ron and Ginny into the kitchen so they could chat for a moment. Ron clearly didn't believe him when Harry told him that they were having a great time that and everybody was getting on fine. Before he could start lamenting again that he failed to understand why Harry and Hermione wanted to spend Christmas with Snape and Malfoy of all people instead of coming to the Burrow, Hermione thanked him for his present and said her goodbyes, leaving it to Harry to defend his decision. He had the more plausible reason, after all, Snape being his long-lost godfather. Somehow she doubted that admitting she also wanted to deepen her relationship with him – profoundly so – would sit well with Molly.

Back in the parlour, Hermione found Draco, Severus and Remus deeply engrossed in conversation and oblivious to anything else. Remus had Teddy on his arm, who looked rather alert again and was probably was not going to be distracted with his rattle much longer.

Luna was still on the other side of the room on the piano stool, one hand on the keys, her fingers tentatively striking one note after the other. She paused each time after having played a tone, listening attentively to the dying tone until it had completely faded.

She looked up when Hermione approached her and slipped onto the seat next to her. "I see Teddy woke again... I hope he didn't wake up on Severus' arms and started crying."

"No, they got along pretty well. They had a sort of contest going on for a while, seeing who could pull better faces. I think Teddy won, but that's only because he wasn't scared to do the more ridiculous ones, and because he can do better noses."

Hermione smiled. "Good. I didn't mean to scare him when I pushed Teddy into his arms."

"Who? Teddy or the Professor?" Luna asked with interest.

"The Professor, of course."

"That's what I thought," she nodded, then turned back to her playing. "This piano really has a nice sound," she declared. "Especially the higher keys, which I like better. Although it feels as if the lower ones have more power."

"Well, that's why you combine them when playing," said Hermione, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. "They compliment each other. I suppose you don't play?" Or maybe she did – in a special Luna way, using only certain keys and avoiding those she didn't like so much.

"No, just the flute sometimes, to lure out the garden fairies. They like the higher tunes, too." Luna lifted her hand off the piano and held her wrist out to Hermione, showing her the bracelet she was wearing. "I wanted to thank you for the nice gift you gave me," she said, fingering the charms that were dangling from it. "I hope you don't mind I already opened my presents yesterday – at St. Mungo's, with my dad."

Hermione had gotten her the bracelet and a Moonstone charm that was shaped like a crescent moon as a symbol for her name.

"No, of course not. We had agreed not to exchange any presents here, except for the White Elephant gift exchange later on."

"See this bunny?" Luna showed her the other charm attached next to it. "I got this from Draco. It stands for my patronus. And the raven is from Harry – for my house affiliation. How nice of you to give them the idea to get me a charm, too. Now Dad wants to get me a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but I'm not sure if it can be found in a Muggle store. Do you think you could take me sometime so I could have a look?"

"Of course. Maybe you can get something that looks roughly similar that your dad can transfigure for you..."

"Yes, that's what he thought, too. It's a really sweet gift. I have a present for you, too." She pulled a little box out of the pocket of her cardigan. Hermione carefully unwrapped it and held a tiny glass vial in her hand that was filled with a dark rose-coloured potion.

"It's a one-time dose of Sweet-Dream-Elixir," Luna explained. "You have to drink the entire vial before going to bed, and it will give you a really nice dream that feels much more real than dreams usually do. You will even be able to read letters and numbers if you see any!"

"Read letters and numbers?" Hermione echoed, wondering why Luna thought that to be awesome.

"Yes. Have you ever opened a book in a dream or a letter and realized that you can't read it? Or that, if you cast a time spell, it gives you really funny numbers?"

Hermione nodded. Yes – now that Luna mentioned it...

"That's how you know that you're dreaming – letters blur or numbers usually don't add up. So if you should dream about a library while under the influence of the potion, you'll be able to actually read every book you're interested in. Any dream you get will be awfully realistic, and will have all the details. It'll make you feel everything as if it's really happening."

Hermione wasn't sure if that was a good thing, given her dream history. "What if I have a bad dream after taking the potion?" she asked sceptically. She really didn't want to have a particularly realistic dream that featured Bellatrix, Nagini or Greywolf.

"You can't have a nightmare while under the influence of the potion. That's why it's called Sweet Dream Elixir. It tries to fulfil our wishes and desires – at least for one night. I've taken it myself, and once found a Crumple-horned Snorkack! It was fantastic!"

"Oh. That sounds great, indeed!" Hermione eyed the potion with renewed interest, but she couldn't help being wary of potions that induced feelings that weren't real. If this potion assured nice dreams, it sounded too good to be true. Why not give it to distressed patients in need of sleep? Yet Madam Pomfrey had never suggested it to her. Neither had Severus.

"Is it addictive? I could imagine that people who have trouble sleeping would use it regularly..."

"Yes, they might be tempted. But you can only take it once in about six months. It comes with a sort of marker – I'm sure Professor Snape could explain how it works. The Ministry demanded that it was put in – I guess so that people don't take it every night and start living in their dreams. Besides, the dreams are nice, but not always particularly restful." She leaned closer to confidentially whisper into her ear: "Apparently, dreaming of what we desire makes a lot of people dream about people they fancy, and since the dream is so real, there can be physical reactions they might find embarrassing if witnessed. I suggest you cast a silencing charm on your room, just in case." Smiling, she leaned back again, her expression dreamy. "But I really hope you'll get a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, that was my best one..."

"Uhm, yes – I guess that would be nice," said Hermione, thinking that she'd much rather dream about the person she fancied. She stole another glance at her favourite professor, who was just about to sit down with Remus for another game of chess. Draco picked up Teddy and came over to them, quite obviously in high spirits.

"You look cheerful," Luna noted fondly. "It's the prospect of going on a date with Harry, right? I really like how your colours compliment each other."

Hermione wondered if she was still on about the respective colours of the boys' auras – supposedly red and green – or if she found that Draco's and Harry's hair colour contrasted nicely. Possibly both.

"Uhm, sure," Draco replied, then his slightly puzzled expression widened to a grin. "But I just secured myself an apprenticeship, which makes me rather happy, too."

"In Potions?" Hermione asked, knowing that Draco has always had an affinity for the subject. And Severus was his godfather, after all. Though she wasn't sure if she even wanted to be a potion apprentice – she knew she lacked the creativity it required – Hermione couldn't help feel a pang of envy. For knowing what he wanted to do. For having a plan. And for getting to spend most of his time with Severus.

"No, in Defence against the Dark Arts. It was actually Severus' idea, and Remus was thrilled at the prospect of having an assistant. Provided, of course, that the headmistress agrees. But Remus and Severus both assured me she would."

"Draco – that's brilliant!" Hermione congratulated him. "You were always good at Defence. In fact I wondered why you didn't consider the Aurory."

"I did." The blonde shrugged, as if it was a matter of small importance. "They didn't want me. I'm wearing the Dark Mark. I let the Death Eaters into the castle and tried to kill Dumbledore, thrice, and I can't even claim a higher motive for doing so. Honestly, I'd be surprised if McGonagall accepted me."

"You had little choice at the time," Hermione said, frowning. "Voldemort threatened you and your parents. You've never been really into the ideology, and you're not a violent person by nature."

"The Dark Mark says differently," said Draco matter-of-factly. He wouldn't succumb to endless self-flagellation like his uncle had for a time, but he had to accept his share of the blame. He had things to make up for, especially to those two thirds of the Golden Trio who had shown him nothing but kindness since the end of the war. He just wasn't sure if he could make himself feel any charitable thoughts toward the third nipple on that figurative chest. Ronald Weasley was still a stupid git. The fact that he had snubbed Granger for Lavender Brown just proved the point.

"No, it's not as simple as that..." the stubborn Gryffindor insisted, about to deliver a discourse about the unfairness of it all, when thankfully, the peculiar house-elf appeared with the soft cracking noise of apparition and interrupted what could easily turn into a 'save sexy Slytherins' campaign if he didn't watch out. At a snap of his fingers, a buffet table materialised, almost out of thin air. It was loaded with sandwiches, slices of ham, biscuits, mince pies and fruit.

"Oh my..." Hermione said instead of whatever she had been about to say. She kept staring at the food even after Kreacher had disappeared again, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "He's hopefully not expecting us to eat all of this?"

Draco shrugged. "He probably wants to make sure that no one dies of hunger before dinner." He dutifully picked a pie and started nibbling on a it. Not that he'd been hungry, but Harry would probably consider it rude to not indulge when Kreacher had gone through so much trouble on their behalf. "I guess we can donate all the remains to charity tomorrow."

Although the buffet beckoned enticingly, they all pretty much forgot about the food, as they became engrossed in their respective games. After Severus had won the first round of chess, Remus demanded a rematch. Draco and Harry then started a fun game of their own, trying to outdo each other coming up with ever more clever transfigurations and charms to keep Teddy entertained. Draco had charmed the little nutcracker to life who was now leading a marching band of little drummer boys that Harry had conjured. The girls eventually joined in on the fun.

Hermione's gingerbread man had been more to Teddy's taste, as he was soft, round and perfect to chew on with it's anti-disintegration charm. Luna had snowflakes falling all over the parlour, which, like in Hogwarts, never touched the ground, and Draco brought Santa Claus to life. He was dragging his crocus sack behind him and shouted 'Ho-ho-ho' every once in while, but his dark voice and the mad chuckling sound accompanying it made him sound rather sinister. They stopped their competition when Draco, distracted by a bunch of stocking-clad Christmas elves that Hermione had set to dance can-can on the tea tray, had failed to stop his Engorgement charm in time, and a life-sized giant moose suddenly loomed behind the sofa, looking irritable.

Harry almost choked on his cookie trying to make Draco aware of the antlers, which threatened to take down the Christmas tree if the animal so much as moved his head. Fortunately, Severus, was quick to react and put an end to it with a quick 'Finite Incantatem' and the giant moose became a harmless reindeer ornament once again.

Not to Teddy's delight, who screwed up his face and burst into loud and angry tears at having his toy taken away. Remus quickly picked him up, hoping that his wailing would not turn into a full blown tantrum. It had been a lot of excitement for the boy.

"Andromeda will be here to pick up Teddy shortly," Remus said apologetically. "He'll be staying with her and his grandfather's relatives until tomorrow afternoon, so we won't have the same ruckus as yesterday evening."

"No need to apologize," Severus said with a reproachful glance towards his two godsons, "your kid clearly isn't the only child one has to watch out for in this room. The others are wielding wands and are obviously a far greater menace."

"Still, it'll be much easier for me to enjoy dinner without having to watch out for Teddy. I love him dearly, but I have no idea how I'd manage without Andromeda."

"How is she coping with everything?" Hermione asked, feeling compassion for Remus' mother-in-law, who had lost everything in the war. "It must have been so hard on her – not only losing her daughter, but her husband, too..."

"Having Teddy is a great comfort to her. Tonks would never have followed me to Hogwarts if she hadn't known that her mother would step in and raise him in our stead if the worst came to happen. At least I know that Teddy still has people who care for him once I'm gone."

"Oh, Remus... don't say that. You don't know what will happen..."

"Yes, Hermione, I do. But that's okay, really, I have made peace with the inevitable. I miss my wife so much... She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Tonks was a great person," Harry said. "I really liked her. We all did."

Severus had never had much in common with the young Metamorphagus, but he found that he couldn't disagree with the statement. Nymphadora - or Tonks, as she had insisted to be called - had been buoyant and cheerful, although her clumsiness had grated on his nerves. In Potions, she had almost been worse than Longbottom, knocking over cauldrons left and right. But she'd had a kind heart and had always treated him with respect. Now her and Remus' son would be another orphan who would never get to know his parents.

"Perhaps you can find comfort in the knowledge that he has a godfather who will watch out for him," Severus said, who himself had failed in the task. "I'm sure Teddy will want for nothing."

Harry gave him a smile, grateful for his vote of confidence, although he completely missed the apologetic and self-critical note in his remark.

"Damn right he won't," said Draco. "It's not like he'll be left without relatives. Teddy's surrogate mother is my aunt, Teddy's mother was my cousin. I'm family, too."

Remus and Severus looked at him in apparent surprise, though they were both trying to hide it.

"What?" Draco asked defensively, having noticed their efforts. "I never said she wasn't. I hadn't ever had the chance to say anything about it, as I never met her in person before the war was over. Mother never spoke about her. Not even a single bad word. Bellatrix was the hater in the family."

"Draco – I'm sure Teddy and Andromeda will both be happy to count you as family," Remus said warmly. "I know that Andromeda always regretted the estrangement between your mother and her, which was, after all, due to politics more than anything else. And it would make me immensely happy to know that Teddy has not only Harry and Andromeda, but another blood relative looking out for him."

Draco nodded. "I promise I will."

*'*'*'*'*

Andromeda arrived about half an hour before dinner, which was just in time. Teddy, whose nap had been a lot shorter than usual, was a bit overwound by now, and on the verge of getting really cranky. Harry, having opened the library's Floo to spare their guest from having to step step outside for apparition, led her into the parlour.

Hermione, on seeing her enter, felt herself stiffen and blanch. She had never met the woman in person before and was not at all prepared for her uncanny resemblance to the woman who featured so prominently in Hermione's worst nightmares. For a moment, she was looking into the face of Bellatrix Lestrange, and her heart stopped beating.

She jumped up from the sofa and instinctively she reached for her necklace, which was kind of absurd, given that Severus had been sitting right next to her. A Portkey to his office would do her little good. But the gesture had become instinctive – she reached for the pendant whenever she was nervous or afraid. And on seeing the woman who looked like her tormentor enter the parlour, she simply panicked. Her heart picked up beating again, wildly so, and her breathing turned shallow.

The gesture had not escaped Severus' notice. He could feel the anxiety coming off her in waves and immediately understood the reason for her distress. He stood up as well and put his hand on the small of her back, anchoring her with his grip, reminding her of his presence. It was sufficient to break her moment of panic.

Fortunately, everyone else was too distracted with the exchange of greeting and courtesies following Andromeda's arrival to pay any attention to them. Hermione briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the calming hand that was soothingly rubbing her back. If anybody should happen to notice, it was a comforting gesture everybody would understand, given they all knew what had happened in Malfoy Manor. All except Andromeda herself, that is.

When she forced her eyes open again, she realized that the woman standing next to Harry looked nothing like Bellatrix. Her hair was chestnut brown, just like her eyes. They projected kindness and warmth, not madness. She was dressed elegantly, but not as sophisticated as her sister Narcissa. Her hair was styled in a natural looking, pinned updo, she wore subtle make-up. She looked utterly sane.

Hermione relaxed. She let go of her pendant, and after a reassuring squeeze, Severus reluctantly withdrew his hand. She immediately missed the contact and was grateful when he remained standing close beside her.

Teddy had jumped up when he saw Andromeda enter and hastened over to her on his short and unsteady legs, extending his arms to her expectantly. She obediently picked him up, hugged him and smiled.

"Hello, my sweet boy. Did you have a great time with Uncle Harry?" Teddy's hair turned pitch black and messy and he beamed. Okay. That was obviously also a means of communication.

Remus put his hand on Draco's shoulder and gently pushed him forward. "Andromeda, please meet Draco, Narcissa's son. He has a great talent for baby-sitting and will probably be around when Teddy comes to visit Harry."

Draco, just like Hermione, had been slightly perturbed to notice the strong resemblance Andromeda bore to her sister. On second glance, however, the likeness was superficial at best.

"Draco?" Andromeda gave him a friendly smile and extended her hand. "What a pleasure to finally meet you! You look so much like your mother!"

He did indeed, but it was the first time ever that someone had noticed. People usually only saw his light blond hair and claimed he was the spitting image of his father. It made him wonder if Andromeda smarted under the same superficial and negligent comparison being drawn between her and her mad sister.

"Nice to meet you, too, Aunt Andromeda," he said, shaking her hand. The fact that he had called her 'aunt' and thus acknowledged their relationship clearly took her by surprise. Yet there was no doubt that it was appreciated.

"I really hope we'll have time to share a cup of tea and chat when I bring by Teddy next time. I'd love to hear how your mum is doing. Please send her my regards if you should talk to her."

Draco nodded. "I certainly will," he assured her and turned to the toddler on her arms. "Good-bye, Teddy. We'll play hide and seek again next time, okay?"

Teddy, who obviously understood that it was time to leave, turned light blond and nestled his head comfortably in the nook of Andromeda's neck, looking sleepy all of a sudden.

"I bet you're ready for a nap now..." Andromeda said. "Auntie Elisabeth is waiting for you to get home. And I believe there are a few more presents from Santa waiting for you there... "

Remus kissed his son good-bye and ruffled his hair, which had turned brown once again. "Sleep well, my son. I'll see you tomorrow."

Andromeda said her good-byes and gave Draco another smile before she left.

"She seems like a really nice woman," Hermione remarked. "Do you think there's a chance that she and your mother make up, Draco?"

"They might," Draco said, shrugging non-committally, though inside, he felt elated. There was a realistic chance that his mother would put her foot down this time and finally let bygones be bygones, no matter what his father thought on the matter. With the loss of their fortune, their social position and everything they had ever valued, their relationship had shifted ever so subtly. His father appreciated her much more than he had before, and for the first time ever, he truly _needed_ her.

"I'm sure they will." Hermione smiled in a forlorn way. "We often only realize how important family is when we no longer have them around. And they spent a very long time apart."

Once again, she felt Severus' comforting touch on her back. He wasn't the only one who had noticed her sadness.

"You must be missing your parents, Hermione..." said Luna, ever perceptive. "Especially today. Didn't you say they moved abroad when things got bad around here?"

Yes, that's what she had told everybody. She had just failed to mention that she had also erased herself from their memories. No one except Severus and Harry knew that she had been unable to return their memories. Talking to Severus about it had helped her come to grips with what she had done, and she no longer felt burdened with guilt. Maybe it was time to unburden her conscience and come clean with her closest friends, too.

Hesitantly, she told them the full truth of the story. "I don't know if we'll ever get a chance to reconnect," she concluded. "But I'll sure as hell take every chance I get to do so."

"Blimey, Granger!" said Draco, feeling disturbed. He and his parents were part of the people to blame for the fact that Hermione had no parents anymore. Pondering this, he also realized that they were just as responsible for the death of Harry's parents and – if Remus and Xenophilos Lovegood truly died – for Teddy and Luna being orphaned. His family was to blame for every single one of his friends being orphans! He wondered if any of them had realized this... Probably not, because they would hardly count him as friend otherwise. His mere being here was a blasphemy.

"I wrote them a Christmas card," Hermione concluded her story, unaware of Draco's inner turmoil.

"You told them who you really are by letter?" asked Luna, cocking her head. That was something even she would consider weird.

"No, of course not," Hermione shook her head. "I wrote them under the name they know me as now: As Harmony Miller, government employee, who lost her parents and who was offered comfort from people who didn't feel like strangers."

"A good approach," Severus said approvingly. "What did you write?"

She shrugged. "What you usually write people for Christmas... thanking them for their kindness, wishing them that they'll find happiness after all they've been through, and expressing my hope that they would like to keep in touch with someone from back home."

"Did they write back?" Remus inquired.

"Not yet – but it's too early. The regular mail takes about a week. But I'm sure they will reply." Hermione smiled. "My mum's always had a soft spot for strays."

"You're not a stray," Severus said adamantly, his face unreadable. "You're neither lost nor unwanted, nor without a home."

"Yes, you are an important part of a lot of people's lives," added Draco. Remus nodded, while Harry put his arm around her and pulled her close. "In everything but blood, you're my sister. You will always have me."

"I know, Harry. I don't feel like I'm alone." She stole a sideglance at Severus. "Not anymore."

* * *

_A/N: You will find Harry's and Severus' visit to Godric's Hollow as a separate story in 'The Truth Behind it All'. Chronologically, it would have to be Chapter 11 in this, but I guess it doesn't matter when you read it. Not so many people have found it interesting yet, but if you want to know what really happend the night Harry's parents died and what role Severus and Dumbledore played in the whole affair, I encourage you to read it. :)_


	6. Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

**Don we now our gay apparel**

Soon after Andromeda had left, they all retreated to their respective rooms to freshen-up and change into something more festive for Christmas dinner. Kreacher had insisted that it would be served in the dining room, as appropriate in the noble former house of Black. He seemed determined to make it shine in new splendour, not only in decor, but also in identity, and hosting the Christmas festivities for so many war heroes was just the occasion to do it justice. He would make his new master proud.

Hermione, who welcomed the opportunity to make an impression just as much as Kreacher, had bought herself a new dress with that purpose in mind. It was of a beautiful golden-bronze colour that not only befit the occasion, but also matched perfectly with her hair, which she had styled into a half-updo with her new gift wand. A pair of hanging earrings perfected her ensemble.

Looking into the mirror, Hermione was very satisfied with her appearance. Unlike school uniforms, which were designed to make students look rather undistinguishable and hid their forms beneath layers of cloth, this dress hugged her in just the right places, displaying her womanly shape in a subtle, but tantalizing way. She certainly didn't look like a pupil now, but every inch the twenty year old woman she was – taking into account the roughly ten months she had added to her age during her third year – or the even older one she felt like. It gave her butterflies to anticipate how the man she was hoping to appeal to might react... the good, tingly kind, but also the slightly jittery ones. Well, there was just one way to find out. Hermione put on her heels, which made a great job of making her seem taller, and made for the door.

She wasn't to be disappointed. Severus had a hard time keeping his face straight when he saw her enter the dining room. He knew too little about a woman's styling tricks and the effects of attire, hair-do and make-up to understand how such a transformation was possible within half an hour. He probably would have realized that wearing a nice dress, elevated heels and subtle make-up gave you a boost of self-confidence, and that just knowing you looked presentable affected your posture and your entire body language – if he had pondered it more deeply. Except that he wasn't capable of analysing it at the moment. He could only stare awe-struck at this mature and elegant woman that Hermione Granger, the know-it-all bane of his serenity, had suddenly morphed into.

Fortunately for him, neither Harry nor Draco nor Remus noticed his bewilderment, as they were also looking at Hermione, and contrary to him, didn't have their features under control.

"Wow," Harry put their sentiments into a simple, but nonetheless fitting word, "you look fantastic, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled, blushing only slightly when she threw a quick glance at Severus and saw that she had succeeded in her endeavour. "Thank you, Harry! You all have dressed up rather nicely, too..." It was true. While she wouldn't have expected differently from Draco, who had always been vain and believed in the old adage that clothes made the man, Harry could usually not be bothered to use a comb. But he, too, was dressed in his finest and had obviously even tried to tame his hair, which was just as bothersome as Hermione's. She briefly wondered if Severus had gifted him with his miraculous hair potion, too.

Luna was wearing a glittering pink dress, probably standing strong in her fight against all Gloomilows. The Christmas tree earrings from her stocking dangled clearly visible from her ear lobes, as she had borrowed Hermione's wand for an updo as well. Contrary to Hermione, though, she had found that the up-twisted braids that resembled antlers were just the right style for the occasion. In her own special way, she was a sight to behold.

Remus didn't own expensive pieces of clothing and always looked a bit ragged, but his shirt was starched and clean and he wore a fitting tie. And Severus...

Hermione dared not let her eyes linger on him longer than for a short perusal, although she wanted to. He was wearing a frock coat as usual, but one that was different in style from what he normally wore. Though distinctively Victorian, it was deep charcoal instead of the usual black. The back was much longer than the front and had a wide swallow-tail – probably to make up for the missing teaching robe. The short and open-cut front revealed a paisley-patterned waistcoat of the same colour and the waistband of his trousers. Hermione, who had never seen more of his legs then the part below his knees, realized for the first time how long they were.

Just like the frock coats he wore in school, this one had a very high and stiff collar. It wasn't buttoned-up to his chin, but he had put on a neck-cloth on top of his shirt so that still no inch of skin was revealed. He probably was even more self-conscious about exposing his neck after the terrible injury he sustained.

What the outfit was lacking in colour, the subtle blend of patterns and materials – paisley and pin-stripes, wool, silk and cotton, certainly made up for. Of course, there were a lot of shiny buttons on his vest, on the cuffs of the coat and even three little buttons on the waistband of his trousers. They gave his attire a festive touch, but still in an understated way. Actually, it looked elegantly steampunk, and Hermione found that it suited him perfectly.

Severus was well-aware of her ogling, despite her attempts to be unobtrusive about it. Gryffindors! They just didn't have any subtlety at all. But for once, it made him smirk. She couldn't hide her surprise nor her approval. Though none of his students would ever have guessed, he knew how to dress up. Narcissa had taught him well. In his earlier Death Eater days, he had enjoyed doing so. After suffering through most of his Hogwarts years in badly fitting, ragged clothing, he knew how important clothes were to make an impression. The Dark Lord had been generous in his support while Severus apprenticed under a renowned Potions Master. Not only had he paid for his accommodation, but also granted him an allowance for personal expenses. Dressing like his Pure-Blood brethren had served many purposes: visibly severing all ties to his poor Muggle upbringing, establishing himself firmly as a wizard, and boldly claiming a place among their ranks. It had made himself feel worthy. The Dark Lord had understood this need to belong, and by generously helping him in this endeavour, he had further bound Severus to him and assured his gratitude.

Forgoing elegant and expensive clothes later on had been an expression of his internal rebellion, though he had justified it with his position as a Hogwarts professor. He had only needed to dress-up for the occasional dinner party at the Malfoys, and had entirely given up on it after the Dark Lord's first demise. From then on, cultivating his dungeon bat image – severe, unapproachable and dark – had given him a perverse kind of satisfaction and was befitting of his mental and emotional state at the time. First, he had been in mourning. In the following years, he'd become miserable and depressed.

But now, with his spirits suddenly soaring again because of that insufferable Gryffindor who had somehow wormed her way into his heart and made him aware that it was capable of doing more than just beating monotonously, he suddenly felt like dressing up again. While there had been no reason for him to pay more than the minimum of attention to his appearance in recent years, there certainly was no reason to continue neglecting himself now.

And if he was fully honest with himself, he wanted to impress her. Though he would never match her in attractiveness, no matter how much he dolled himself up, a tiny part in him wanted to convince her – and himself – that she would at least not have to be embarrassed to be seen with him. And judging by the not-so-subtle, admiring glances she kept throwing in his direction, his efforts had paid ofF.

"Miss Granger..." he said, his throat dry as he moved the chair out for her at the dining table. "You look very fetching tonight." She always looked fetching, unruly hair and all, but her school uniform thankfully allowed him to refrain from dwelling on it.

"Hermione..." she corrected, a bit flustered, taking the offered seat. "Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself."

Taking in the decorations in the dining room and the festively laid table, Hermione was relieved to notice that none of them were overdressed for the occasion. It looked like they were in for a five-course meal. Kreacher obviously had every intention of entertaining in style.

Like the perfect little butler, he served them pre-dinner drinks as soon as they had taken their seats. There were Christmas crackers waiting on each of their plates, which they pulled open with their neighbour at their right. The one Severus and Hermione popped contained a hairpin which Severus graciously let her to keep, although he had been the one ending up with the larger part of the cracker. He allowed her to keep the paper crown as well, though he waved his wand at it to change it from blue to a bronze tone that perfectly matched her dress.

Luckily, Draco won the paper hat in Severus' cracker and the discussion about whether it was compulsory to wear it or not was gracefully avoided. Hermione strongly suspected that his tolerance for Christmas merriment would have ended there. Luna ended up with two hats, which she magically fused into a single, larger one, looking like a two-coloured crown. With her hair-antlers sticking out from the top of it and the Christmas tree earrings, she made a rather funny picture, but somehow, she managed to wear it all with a solemn dignity no one else could have pulled off.

"I wonder why we bother," said Draco, who had donned his paper crown despite his obvious disdain. "These hats are ridiculous, the jokes incredibly bad and the gifts useless. What am I to do with a set of miniature screwdrivers?"

"The jokes aren't supposed to be funny," Hermione pointed out. "It's part of the tradition. You're already missing out on the Queen's speech."

"Whose speech?" asked Luna interested.

"The Muggles' head of state," explained Draco, much to Harry's and Hermione's surprise. "What? I'm not totally ignorant, you know? Still, it's a good thing that old Fudge never expected wizards to sit in front of the wizarding wireless to hear him give a speech on Christmas day."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Severus put in drily.

"I like these traditions," declared Harry. "The gifts in the crackers were the only decent gifts I ever got as a kid."

"Yes, I remember," said Hermione, frowning. "For your first Christmas at Hogwarts, your aunt and your uncle sent you a 50 pence piece. I couldn't believe it."

"That was actually one of the best gifts they ever got me," Harry laughed. "It got worse from there. They sent me a toothpick in second year and a tissue in third. Not to forget the dog biscuits from Aunt Marge."

Draco's spoon paused halfway to his mouth. "Please tell me you're kidding..."

"No, it's as sad as it's true," Hermione confirmed. "Though I still fail to understand why they bothered at all. I mean – sending someone a toothpick? There must have been some kind of meaning behind it, at least. An insult?"

Severus, who looked as flabbergasted as everybody else, shook his head. "I highly doubt that it was a hidden message. Petunia had no subtlety at all, and her husband seemed to have the intelligence of a huge sack of plain flour, and he looked like one, too."

Harry chuckled. "He really did, didn't he? But I eventually found out what – or rather who – was behind those weird presents. It was Dumbledore and Hedwig."

"Your owl?" asked Luna.

"Yes. When I had put my name on the list of students who wanted to stay at Hogwarts, Dumbledore sent Hedwig to the Dursleys to inform them about it. He also hinted that the owl would take back any presents they intended to send me. Maybe Dumbledore already rightfully suspected that those presents wouldn't be too big in size or number for her to carry... Anyway, Hedwig refused to leave without being given something for the return trip. So Uncle Vernon hastily wrapped 50 cents and scribbled a note. When the same thing happened next year again, they figured out that they could give poor Hedwig just about anything – it's not like she was able to judge what made a decent present. From then on, they probably had fun grabbing the most ridiculous things that were handy whenever she showed up."

Draco looked aghast. "What a bunch of tossers!"

Harry just shrugged. "Yeah, well... they were. Good thing I have nothing to do with them anymore. But even though they were mean-spirited on every other day, the spirit of Christmas mellowed them out a bit, and I was always allowed to keep the trinkets in my crackers."

Thankfully, Kreacher saved them all from having to come up with a decent comment for this rather pathetic and pitiful childhood memory as he arrived with the starters – a delicious looking chicken liver parfait with sultanas and raisins.

Conversation quieted as everyone savoured the treat they were being served. The meals at Hogwarts weren't bad, but the food was intended for teenagers, and even house elves wouldn't throw pearls before swine – literally speaking. With a shudder, Hermione remembered Ron's atrocious table manners. The difference between him and her current table neighbour couldn't have been more obvious.

Hermione had never seen a person eat as neatly, meticulously and elegantly as he did. He sat almost rock straight, used both pieces of cutlery and actually moved the fork to his mouth instead of the other way round, differently from her childhood friend, who had almost lain on the table to more conveniently shovel the food into his mouth. Ron had also always judged the complicated handling of a knife superfluous, considering that he had teeth. Severus cut everything on his plate with astonishing precision into equally sized pieces – probably a habit he had formed during potion making. He took small bites and chewed daintily, never opening his mouth before he had swallowed, and dabbing his mouth with his napkin before taking a sip of wine or water.

It made him a rather taciturn table neighbour, but Hermione vastly preferred it over being given deep insight into Ron's chewing process. She wondered when and why Severus had developed this particular habit... Was it a means to ensure no one would be paying him unwanted attention? Had he come to value good manners because they allowed him to separate himself from his unrefined up-bringing? That would make sense... His distinguished and very sophisticated manner of speaking also seemed so at odds with his background. His understated, but definitely expensive attire... The subtlety in everything he did. His erudition. He had probably come to cherish all of this in his late youth, when he had begun to fight for and claim his place in the world.

"Just what it is that has you staring at my fork with such utter fascination?" Severus asked a bit self-consciously when he noticed her intent gaze. "You have the same food on your own plate. I suggest you give it a try before it gets cold, it's delicious."

"I enjoy watching you eat," Hermione answered honestly, which made him blink in bewilderment.

"You certainly have most peculiar hobbies..." he murmured, clearing his plate and putting down knife and fork neatly beside each other.

"Oh, you have no idea..." said Hermione, thinking of what else she liked to see or imagine him do with his hands and mouth, with such control, concentration and confidence. It often made for great, private entertainment.

He raised his eyebrows at that, feeling sure that her remark had been naughty, though he had no inkling what she was talking about. He wisely chose not comment.

Not long after Kreacher had magically cleared away their plates, he served the main dish. He had really outdone himself. As impressed as they all had been with his cooking abilities after breakfast and the truly exquisite appetiser – it was nothing compared to the classic roast turkey they were served as main course, complete with all the trimmings: Pigs-in-blankets, chunky roast potatoes, honey-roasted carrots, crisp honey mustard parsnips and Christmas spiced red cabbage, not to forget the bread and cranberry sauce. At a snap of his spindly fingers, it all appeared on the table. Somehow, house-elves had mastered the skill of apparating objects, something no wizard was capable of doing.

It wasn't the only impressive feat they marvelled at. "Kreacher," Harry asked the elf, flabbergasted. "Just how on Earth have you managed to prepare all this?"

Kreacher looked at him with a peculiar mixture of pride, happiness and a guilty conscience. "Kreacher knows how to prepare festive meals, Sir. It has been his duty for many years when serving his mistress. But..." he paused, then added sheepishly: "Kreacher followed his Master's best friend's advice and asked for help."

"You did?" Harry looked confused. As far as he knew, nobody had been in the kitchen since breakfast, and Kreacher surely hadn't approached him for assistance.

"Kreacher has asked Winky to come," the elf explained, flapping his ears. "Not much to do at Hogwarts during the holidays. Winky needs work, or Winky will become distressed again."

"Winky?" asked Draco in surprise. "Isn't that Mr. Crouch's old house-elf?" He vaguely remembered seeing her at the Quidditch World Cup. Not that he would normally have taken notice of a house elf, but her appearance had drawn attention at the time. Elves were usually left where they belonged: in the houses of their masters, where they could perform their duties in an unobtrusive way. Why Crouch had chosen to take her to the Quidditch Cup, he had no idea.

"She used to be his elf," corrected Severus. "He kicked her out of his service when his son escaped from his house-arrest. She's been in Hogwarts ever since. Mostly drinking."

"She took it very badly and was in a very bad shape for a long time," Harry tried to excuse Winky's ill habit. "For her, being freed was the utmost disgrace. She was like a child that had been kicked out of the family, poor thing. But I know she was one of the elves who followed Kreacher's lead in the Battle of Hogwarts and helped fight against the Death Eaters."

"Winky was very brave, Sir," Kreacher nodded. "She is a good elf. Winky understands the honour of servitude."

"And you actually managed to persuade her to come here?"

"Kreacher will punish himself most severely if he has displeased his master by asking," the elf declared solemnly.

Draco shook his head in disbelief. The house-elf should never have taken the initiative and gone behind his master's back in the first place. Harry really had a knack of surrounding himself with the most peculiar characters. He had tricked his father into freeing Dobby... that elf had really been an oddball. While his father had been extremely displeased about the loss of a house-elf, his mother had been secretly relieved to be rid of him. He had always been more trouble than he was worth. Yet Harry didn't seem to find the fact that his house-elf had acted out of his own volition perturbing. On the contrary.

"I told you, there will be no punishing in this house!" he told the elf sternly, then smiled. "Besides, I think you did great. I think Winky needs someone to look out for her."

"Yes," Hermione readily agreed. "Who could understand her better than you, Kreacher? You have always been as loyal to your mistress as Winky was to her master. Dobby never understood that, and so she couldn't respect him. But I'm sure she respects you."

To Draco's amazement, Kreacher blushed. Who would have guessed that house-elves could do that?

"Master's friend is being very kind. But is right, too. Winky needs..." he paused, searching for the right words.

"A kick in the butt?" Draco helpfully offered, which caused Hermione to stare at him, aghast.

"How can you say such a thing," she immediately went off. "There will be no more kicking of house-elves in this house! I thought you agreed that your father's treatment of elves was despicable! I thought you..."

"Take a breath, Granger, and come down again! I meant that purely in a figurative sense. If she was drinking and wallowing in self-pity like Harry said she was, she might indeed need a firm hand to pull her out of her own mess."

"Mr. Potter's honourable guest is right, Miss," Kreacher agreed. "Winky needs Kreacher, needs instructions, needs to be given tasks. Lazing about is not good for house-elves."

"Fine," said Harry after brief consideration. "If Hogwarts can spare her..." He looked inquiringly at Severus, who made a conceding gesture. One elf more or less, Hogwarts wouldn't ever notice. "In that case she is welcome to stay here."

Kreacher's eyes lit up, and he bowed to Harry. "Kreacher will inform Winky that she is now to serve in the Noble House of Harry Potter," he said in a dignified manner and disappeared with a plop.

"I wonder..." Harry said pensively, while they all started eating, "if there is a way to enslave a house-elf again..."

"Harry!" Hermione protested. "You cannot possibly mean to..."

"Well, it's obvious that not belonging to anyone made Winky unhappy," Harry defended his idea. "Unlike Dobby, she never wanted to be free. Maybe she would like to belong to a wizarding family again. Couldn't we give her to the Weasleys?"

"I'm afraid you both still don't understand house-elves," Severus said, in between bites of the truly delicious dish, and threw a side glance at Hermione. "It doesn't work like that."

"Well, I understand now that a free elf is not necessarily a happy elf, but why is it that the Weasleys never had an elf of their own? Considering that they are slaves, can't you just buy them somewhere?"

"That's the point you're still not getting, Granger," Draco put in. "They're _not_ slaves. They aren't sold. House-elves come with the building, and they only inhabit castles, manors or distinguished wizard mansions. You cannot put them into just any house. They will only thrive and breed in big enough places with lots of magical energy. That's why Hogwarts has so many elves."

"But I thought they were bound to the family, not the place..."

"It's both. If the last member of a family who has house-elves bound to them dies, the house-elves will stay in the house for a while. They are not free, but have no master, either. The only way to buy a house-elf would be to buy such a house – the new owner can bind them to the family and make themselves their new master. And you can imagine that such properties are rare on the market and extremely expensive."

"What if Muggles buy the place?"

"Then the house elves will leave and seek sanctuary with other families who own elves and live in an acceptable dwelling."

"Or they stay and make life difficult for those unsuspecting Muggles..." Remus threw in. "It's been known to happen on occasion. The new owners believe the house to be haunted..."

"So they are not bred and sold?" Hermione asked, somewhat relieved that there weren't house-elf slave markets.

"No. The young house-elves are automatically bound to the same family. The only way to undo this binding is to free them."

"But what if you do that – can you sell him then, to another mansion?"

"No. Because if you free him, he's not yours to sell anymore."

"Then how can elves ever reproduce within the same family and the same building? I suppose they don't mate with their relatives?"

"Again – no. House-elves can be exchanged for one another. _If_ the house-elves agree to swap places, that is. He's then adopted into the new family by a bonding ritual which transfers ownership."

"Oh," said Harry, eyes lighting up with interest. "So it is possible to bind a house-elf to a new place?"

"Like Draco said – only to acceptable buildings," Severus put in. "It has to do with the magic embedded in the walls, which, by the way, need to be made from natural stone, not wood. Only places that have housed wizards for a very long time seem to accumulate enough excess magic for house-elves tap into it. It's a symbiotic relationship, in a way. House-elves need the magical aura of wizards to thrive. I'm not sure if they even have magic of their own, apart from what they draw from the stones that make the building. You can't just move into a muggle apartment and bring your house-elf, even if your family owns them. They'll get sick and eventually die."

"But Grimmauld Place is a suitable place for house-elves, obviously. So theoretically, it would be possible to adopt Winky by performing a bonding ritual if I did it, being the master of the house?"

"Yes, unless you are squeamish. It's a blood binding, and is therefore considered dark magic by some. Another reason why rich, pureblood wizards were more likely to be accused of dabbling in the Dark Arts."

Hermione was hanging mesmerised on his lips – at this moment, not so much for their sensuality, but because of this whole new world of knowledge he had just opened up for her. She really regretted being so uninformed and clueless about wizarding customs and traditions. Who would have thought that not only Muggleborns and Muggles were often misjudged by pureblood wizards, but that Purebloods were misunderstood and ill-judged as well? And these fascinating facts about house-elves begged to be studied in much more depth... Why did houses need to be made out of natural stone? Did stone absorb a wizard's magic? Where did house-elves come from? Hermione wondered if they might have been dwellers or guardians of places that had a lot of natural, magical energy – like Stonehenge. Thinking of that, they might even have been the creators of said mystical places...

"Well, I have no intentions of rushing into it," Harry said, shrugging. "But if Winky turns out to be happy here, I'd like to look into the matter. I've always felt bad for Kreacher for being alone."

"Oh, cute!" Luna applauded. "You might even get little house-elf babies, if the family grows."

"Seriously?" Harry looked flabberghasted. "How old is Kreacher, anyway? He was around when Regulus Black was a boy... he seems ancient."

That doesn't mean anything," said Draco. "House-elves take many years to reach maturity, but they stay fertile until they die. No matter how old Kreacher is, he could still father offspring, and Winky is still fairly young."

It certainly wouldn't be the only slightly mis-matched couple, age-wise, Hermione thought. Remus and Tonks had been years apart, too, and they still had Teddy. She stole another glance at the man at her right. She surely wasn't planning kids and a wedding yet. But a few years down the road...

Severus caught her gaze and raised an inquiring eyebrow. She just gave him a smile, which, certainly accidentally and unconsciously, he returned. God, he really did look incredibly handsome tonight. It was not just the fact that he wasn't wearing his usual coat, because she liked that on him as well. Hermione strongly suspected that he had used the customized hair potion, too – his hair looked fuller than months ago and not at all oily. And she really had to ask him for the recipe of his toothpaste – not only had she noticed that it made his breath smell really clean and fresh, but his teeth now were almost brighter than her own, despite all her flossing. True, they were still a bit crooked, but for some reason, she found it more appealing than a artificially perfect Hollywood-kind of smile.

Watching him eat and seeing him smile, it occurred to her that his mouth looked delectable. It was a weird realisation, given that Hermione had never thought of any mouth in these terms. But Severus' lips had a really interesting shape that she found utterly fascinating. She couldn't help outlining them with her gaze, and even found herself wishing to she could do so with her tongue. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and quickly tore her eyes away. Seriously, were did those thoughts come from?

Severus looked curiously at the girl next to him. He had caught her staring at him many a time through dinner, and frankly, he found it a bit unsettling. As unlikely at it was, he could have sworn that she had just devoured him with her eyes. There had been an almost lustful expression in them, and her flushed face seemed to confirm his suspicions. He didn't quite know how to feel about that. Extremely flattered, there was no denying that. And also, which gave much more reason for concern, aroused. At the same time, he felt incredibly guilty and embarrassed. She was still his pupil, damn him! He shouldn't be thinking about her like that, and he certainly shouldn't be reacting to her like that!

He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair and tried to focus his attention on Harry and Luna – anything but the alluring little witch by his side. But their topic of conversation – whether one might find crumbled oat shortcakes or something in South America – didn't really catch his interest, so he listened in on Remus and Draco instead, who were discussing the difficulties of teaching Defense against the Dark Arts to traumatized pupils. He could well contribute to that, and soon, Hermione joined in, explaining some of her own difficulties with facing another wizard in a duel. Severus silently vowed to do address that problem of hers as well when they got back to Hogwarts. For her sake, but also for his own peace of mind. He needed her safe.

Conversation continued to flow easy throughout dinner and was only interrupted once again when Kreacher brought in the traditional Christmas cake for dessert and Harry rose from his seat, glass in hand.

"You all know I'm not really fond of speeches, and you don't have to worry, because I won't be giving one..." he said, clearing his throat. "I just wanted to let you all know how happy I am that you're all here to celebrate Christmas with me. If anybody had told years ago me who'd be sitting at this table with me tonight, I would have thought him mad and probably told him so. But as strange as this little group might be, you all have come to mean a lot to me. You've all been with me for a very long time and have helped me find my way – be it gently and insistently..." his eyes went to Remus before he smiled fondly at Hermione, "... secretly and uncompromisingly" – he grinned at Severus – "or even unknowingly or unobtrusively." He nodded at Draco and Luna and his eyes softened. "I'm really awed, honoured and happy to count you all among my friends. This is to friendship..." He lifted his glass for a toast, "... and to new beginnings. Happy Christmas, everybody!"

"Happy Christmas!" they echoed more or less in chorus, and Hermione felt her eyes mist over. Even without her parents and without another relative in the world, she, like Harry, still had these people... a brother in everything but blood, a teacher and mentor, her friends and the man she wanted as partner and lover. It was a very happy Christmas, indeed.

* * *

_A/N: Check my this website (or my dropbox, if that doesn't work) for the frock coat Severus is wearing: (Sadly, FFN does not allow to post links unless you put in lot of blanks. You have to remove those)_

w w w . ama zon . de /Tiny-Time-Schwarz-Halloween-Cosplay/dp/B074RZHHLV/ref=pd_sbs_193_5?_encoding=UTF8&refRID=715XWP535RW4SMKY7ZH8)

_(Sorry, blanks didn't really help with the following links... I really had to butcher them)_

w w w . dropb oxdotc om / s / wxfm9pro6n1zj2t / Severus % 27 % 20 Dinner % 20 Costume . png ? dl=0

_I also posted a link in chapter 3 and uploaded a screen shot of the transfiguration of Mudblood into Powerful if you want to check that out._

__w w w . dropb oxdotc om / s / _____qmv499rrgc2a813 / Powerful . png _? dl=0__


	7. Our Finest Gifts We Bring

**Our Finest Gifts We Bring**

After their opulent meal, they all retreated once more to the parlour for the fun part of the evening, which would include alcohol and their a-bit-out-of-the-ordinary gift exchange. It had seemed reasonable to wait until after dinner and after Teddy had been picked up.

Luna helped Hermione put out the presents underneath the tree. She, too, threw a compassionate glance at the petrified garden gnomes in the manger. "I don't think they like it very much," she said softly, sounding regretful. "There are wizzbizzies crawling all over them. I bet they itch, and petrified as they are, they can't even scratch."

Hearing that, Hermione once more appealed to Harry and Draco to set the poor gnomes free, but they waved her off. "Oh come on – there's no such thing as wingbees, you know how Luna is!" Harry half groaned, half whispered, not meaning to hurt their friend. "We haven't seen a single Nargle yet, and Luna claims the mistletoes are infested with them."

Hermione would have agreed with him about a year ago, but after all she had experienced with the Netherfairies and the Gloomilows, she wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe Luna was not merely being eccentric... However, she was unable to swing Harry and Draco, who promised to set the poor gnomes free right the next day, so they would have to keep holding silent vigil for tonight.

Harry, Draco, Luna and Hermione squashed onto the sofa, while Remus and Severus took the two chairs. "So how does this gift exchange work?" Draco enquired, wondering when and how those white elephants would come into play. Hopefully, they'd be smaller than the moose.

"It's quite simple," Hermione explained. "You take a present from the pile or – provided you're not the first – take away the present of any person who has drawn before you, in which case that person gets to draw another present. It's better with even more people participating, but this will do."

"Doesn't stealing other people's Christmas gifts kind of go against the spirit of it all?" wondered Severus. "I've been told it's all about giving, not taking..."

"Too bad you never acted on that assumption, at least before the holidays," Draco snorted. "As far as house points go, you're always more of a taking than giving person."

Severus smirked. "Indeed. That's why I've never been much of a Christmas person, either."

"No," Harry said, laughing. "From what we witnessed at Hogwarts, you were more the grouchy, cave-dwelling Grinch. If you could have stolen the entire feast, you would have!"

"I have no idea who that Grinch is, but that does sound like Severus," Draco agreed. "Mother always had a hard time getting him to attend the Christmas festivities at Malfoy Manor. Don't understand why. I always loved the feast – great food and many presents. Nothing with elephants, though."

"The expression is said to come from the historic practice of the King of Siam, who gave rare albino elephants to courtiers who had displeased him," Hermione explained. "Others call it 'Dirty Santa'."

"Is that how your father came into possession of those ridiculous white peacocks of his?" Severus asked Draco pensively. "I believe they were a gift from the Dark Lord, though I doubt he was familiar with the gift giving traditions of the King of Siam."

"I wasn't familiar with them, either," Luna declared. "When Harry told me about it, I thought we would exchange actual white elephants for gifts. I had already made a real cute one out of sea shells before he explained it to me. But I'm happy that I'll get to keep it now."

Draco, who had thought until a moment a ago that a White Elephant Gift exchange would at least involve the conjuring or transfiguring of white Elephants, wisely kept his mouth shut. It was a stupid, misleading name. "I like 'Dirty Santa' better, anyway," he said. "It has a nice, naughty ring to it."

"Why don't you go first and pick a present?" Hermione suggested and grinned. "Then I can play dirty and steal it from you when it's my turn."

"Yeah, I bet you would like being a naughty girl, wouldn't you, Granger?" Draco gave her a salacious wink and got up. After studying the gifts beneath the tree, he finally decided on the package that was wrapped in elegant black and silver paper. It looked very classy – until he unwrapped it. "Ugh – that's hideous!" he exclaimed in horror, staring at a pair of pink plush slippers in the shape of Flamingos.

Harry laughed. "More useful than white peacocks, at least. I think they suit you, Draco!"

"Try them on!" Remus suggested. "I bet their heads bob when you walk around in them."

"Worse," said Severus drily. "They talk."

"Really?" Curious, Draco stepped into the slippers and cautiously walked towards the piano.

'Uh – what's the smell in here?' asked the left Flamingo, bobbing his head indignantly.

Draco scowled. "My feet don't smell, stupid bird!"

'Since you're up anyway, how about a trip to the loo?' suggested the right slipper.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, that's hilarious! Who ever gave you those, Severus?"

"Dumbledore," he answered darkly. "He had a really strange sense of humour."

Luna smiled. "They are funny!"

"They're pink!" snorted Draco, walking back to the sofa.

'Hey, you're walking all over us!' the left Flamingo complained.

'Always tread carefully!" the other advised, nodding enthusiastically.

Hermione could easily imagine Severus' indignation when finding out about the slipper's embedded charmwork. Though that could only have happened if he had put them on in the first place...

Severus unsuccessfully tried to hide his smirk beneath a solemn expression. "It does go rather well with your light complexion and your long, blond hair," he offered.

"If you find them too girly, don't worry yet, Draco," Harry helpfully put in. "They'd go nicely with Luna's hair and complexion, too. She might steal them from you, yet."

"Who's next?"

"Since your present was picked, it's your turn, Severus," Harry said and gestured to the pile under the tree.

Severus picked the biggest, most strangely shaped gift, which, even after unwrapping, kept its rather peculiar form. "What in Merlin's name is this?" he wondered, puzzling at the strange object he held in his hands. It looked like a glass and was filled with a yellowish liquid and weird, thick substance in a glowing orange. The latter was slowly forming bubble-like shapes that lazily rose from the bottom, merged into another pool of red at the top and then sunk down again from the top in an ever repeating circle. It was giving off an eery glow and was strangely compelling to look at.

"Oh, I know what that is!" exclaimed Hermione excitedly, who also had a good idea who donated it. "It's a lava-lamp!"

"What's a lava lamp, Granger?" asked Draco, eying the strange object suspiciously. It looked like a bottle containing a rather dangerous looking potion.

"A muggle device – it's like a lamp that's supposed to be relaxing to watch. How come it works without electricity?"

"Oh, is that what it's called?" asked Luna, delighted. "I never knew. Dad found it in a Muggle shop. He first thought that someone had managed to trap Flumoxsies in a jar, as impossible as that seems. When he confronted the shop owner about it, he seemed utterly ignorant."

"I must be ignorant, too, then. What in Merlin's name are Flumoxsies?" asked Harry dubiously.

"Oh, they are a rare subspecies of fire sprites. You can find them in areas with high volcanic activity. They dwell deep in the Earth and are rarely ever seen on the surface. They are also impossible to touch – you'd be incinerated if you tried." Luna nodded toward the lamp. "Father bought this with the intention of setting them free on his next trip to Iceland, but then he discovered that it must be a Muggle imitation, as the jar came with this sort of tail – I think 'pluck' was the word. Well, it was stupid, he admitted it himself. I mean – however would anyone have managed to catch Flumoxsies in the first place? We had a good laugh about it, but then we figured out that it works without the pluck-thingy if you cast 'Lumos' and a heating charm on it. We kept it, cut off its tail and pranked some of Dad's friends, who naturally thought it was Flumoxsies at first, too." Luna smiled fondly at the memory, and Hermione grinned madly, imagining how the conversation with the poor Muggle in the shop must have played out... '_Are those Flumoxsies you have trapped in that jar, young man? I don't care how you managed to pull that off, but if you're unwilling to fly to Iceland and set them free right now, I will!_'

Judging from Severus' amused expression, he must have had similar thoughts. Or he was just quite taken with his present.

"Luna, your turn next."

"Oh, great." She smiled brightly, and, ignoring the presents under the tree, reached for the flamingo slippers in Draco's lap.

"You must be kidding, Lovegood! You actually want these?"

"Yes. Unless you'd rather keep them?"

"No, by all means – take them! Better you than me!"

Luna slipped into the fluffy foot warmers and took two steps back to her seat. 'Yes! Let's get going!" suggested one of the Flamingos happily, while the other sullenly replied: "No! Put those feet up, I'm not in the mood!'

Hermione giggled. "I like them, too, Luna, you might not get to keep them... Draco – you're allowed to pick another present."

He briefly eyed the lava lamp with interest, but Severus clutched it more tightly and shot him a menacing glance. "Don't you dare, Draco! I intend to keep this. It fits perfectly into my office's jar collection. The dunderheads will wonder what kind of mysterious, dangerous specimen it contains, especially if I tell them that it can incinerate them on touch."

"Apart from the Muggleborn students," Harry chuckled. "They will just wonder if you have gone balmy."

Draco grabbed another gift from the pile and tore through the wrapping. "Books..." he said, opening the heavy hardcovers and perusing the non-moving illustrations. "This must be from you, Granger. What is this – a fairy tale book?"

"One is a collection of Grimm's fairytales, a classic among Muggles. The others are famous fantasy novels. They were even made into movies. I'll take you to see them, if you actually read the books."

"Why are you giving away books?" he asked, flipping through the pages of the first one. It was rich with colourful illustrations. "Are you sure they're Muggle? Look, there is a hag in it... and a werewolf... And... is this supposed to be a Leprechaun, or a renegade goblin?"

Hermione looked at the picture he was pointing at. "That's Rumpelstiltskin," she declared. "I think he's a goblin. He knows how to create fool's gold."

Draco snorted. "As if a goblin would ever wear clothes like that! But they do have the child-eating hag right. Just why does she live in a house made of sweets? How peculiar! I never knew that Muggles were aware of goblins, wizards and fairies..."

"They are just fairy tales," Hermione shrugged. "No one believes they are real. The big one is 'Lord of the Rings'. Another epic fantasy novel. The last one is a vampire romance. Vampires are quite the rage at the moment, but the book is incredibly cheesy."

"A vampire romance?" Draco frowned. "How weird. Don't Muggles know they bite and feed on humans?"

"Well, yes, but... that's kind of the allure. I never liked those kind of stories." She flushed a little. "I found them too irrational and too fantastic. I preferred books that were a bit more logical and scientific. The stories about witches scared me."

"Granger, you do realize how strange that is, don't you? I didn't know Muggles knew about Animagi... look, here's a wizard who's actually walking around upright in his cat form, wearing muggle boots. And this prince's Animagus is a frog... poor guy."

Fascinated, Draco kept skimming the fairytale book, looking at the pictures. "Hermione, your turn..." he murmured absent-mindedly.

Hermione's eyes went to the Flamingo Slippers. "I hope you aren't too attached to those, Luna, but I want them. They look soft and warm." Besides, she found the idea amusing to wear them together with the robe Severus had given her. She'd love to see his face if she ever ran into him again on her way to the Hogwarts' kitchen, wearing both. "Pick something else!"

Luna got up and after careful consideration, chose a sturdy looking box. "Funny, it feels like there's something moving inside..." she said, sitting back down and balancing the box on her knees.

"Be careful," Harry obviously felt compelled to warn her. "It's a rather harmless specimen, but it might bite if you handle it too roughly."

Curious, they all watched as Luna opened the metal lock on the box and peeked inside. She smiled. "Oh, isn't that beautiful!" she exclaimed, put her hand inside and gently pulled out a miniature dragon. A Horntail, if she remembered correctly. "Isn't that the dragon you fought in the Tri-Wizard-Tournament?"

"Yes. That's the rather cute copy they made us pull from a bag. It's not real, of course, but whoever placed the charm on the thing did a fantastic job. It totally behaves like a real dragon – it even sends out small puffs of fire if you poke it. My mother charmed a rose petal into a goldfish once, as a gift for Slughorn. I believe that must have been a similar charm."

"It's a rather complex combination of transfiguration and multi-layered charms, very advanced magic. She was really good at those, your mother," said Severus.

"Yes," agreed Remus. "She once made me a hamster. Unfortunately, it escaped from the dormitory one day and was never seen again. It probably got eaten by one of the castle's cats."

"It looks so alive..." marvelled Luna, who held the mini dragon on her hand and fed him a piece of chocolate.

"Yes, he does," agreed Harry. "I never understood how that works. Does transfiguring a cup into a mouse really make it alive and sentient?"

"Objects transfigured into animals are not alive, Potter," Severus snorted. "Even wizards can't create life out of dead matter – we'd hardly be sitting here celebrating the birth of Christ if we didn't worship his Holy Father as creator of all life. Transfigurations are just powerful and realistic animations. A transfigured cup is still a cup, just one that looks and acts like a mouse. Think of it as a sophisticated Muggle robot."

Harry pointed to the chocolate the dragon seemed to devour with relish. "But how can it eat if it isn't real?"

"It doesn't," explained Remus. "It just comes with a built-in vanishing charm."

"I never knew you still had this..." said Hermione to Harry. "Where did you hide it all those years?"

"I really found him pretty cool, especially after I had managed to escape the real one. I put a stasis charm on it and put it in my trunk. But after everything else that happened at the tournament, I forgot all about it until I moved in here. Kreacher emptied my entire trunk for cleaning – admittedly for the first time ever – and found it."

"I like him," said Luna, gently stroking the dragon, who seemed confused by her action. Obviously, whoever had programmed it had failed to specify how a dragon was supposed to react to petting. "It'll need a name, though. Ideas, anybody?"

"Norbert!" exclaimed Harry and Hermione with one voice and both started giggling.

"Must be an inside joke," Draco reckoned, when Remus and Severus looked puzzled as well.

"I'm not even sure if it even is a he..." said Luna pensively and carefully turned the flapping and wriggling dragon on its back to examine his or her private parts. Apparently, it hadn't been given specifications as to how to react to that, either. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "It's neither! It doesn't have any sexual organs!"

"Well, it hardly has need of them, given that it won't be performing any bodily functions with them," pointed Severus out.

"Still..." said Luna. "Poor thing! I'll take good care of him. Go ahead, Harry, it's your turn."

Harry got up and reached for a package that looked like a wrapped stick. In fact, it was a stick. An elaborately crafted and adorned cane with a golden handle that was formed like a horse's head.

"This looks pretty expensive..." he mused, grabbing the heavy knob and taking a few steps with the cane. "I feel like Moody. Hopefully, I'll never end up needing a walking aid like he did."

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione excitedly. "Look at you!"

"What?"

"The stick – it does something to the way you walk. Like Severus with his robes... It adds a kind of flair... I don't know how to describe it..."

"I do," snorted Draco. "It makes you look gay."

"Hah, bloody hah!" Harry turned and approached the mirror above the fireplace this time, looking at his reflection. "I look like your father. I even do move with a kind of regal elegance... or should I say arrogance?"

"Call it prancing. It's charmed to make your movements look more fancy. It was a gift from my father," Draco said, sounding bitter. "It was just another means to make me into his mirror image."

Remus stiffly got up and took the pompous item away from Harry. "Since I'm the only one who's left, I guess it's my turn. And whoever brought this must have meant me to receive it. Who else could use a walking stick?"

He took a few hesitant steps with it. This time, Hermione wasn't the only one who gasped. Where before his gait had been unbalanced and stiff with him appearing slightly crouched, he now walked with his artificial leg as if it was his own – as if he had never been injured at all. Elegant and graceful. "Remus... this is awesome! I can't believe it!"

Even Draco's mouth was hanging agape. "And here I was thinking that it's just a stupid accessory to make everybody look like a pompous fool... Wow!"

"There, walk up to the mirror, Remus, and see for yourself."

Remus did as Harry had suggested, his eyes fixed on his reflection. He was silent, but his eyes were getting suspiciously misty. "I don't know what to say, Draco... This is the most beautiful gift I've ever received."

"If I had known it was as useful as this I would have given it to you straight away. I had no idea."

"Harry – you get to pick the last present, given that your stick was stolen."

The last gift package proved to be a wooden box with chocolate frog cards.

"It is a rather pitiful gift to give..." said Remus, a bit embarrassed, "especially regarding what I got in return. But I was hoping that you would end up with it... In my youth, this was my most prized possession. I loved chocolate, I still do, but I couldn't afford buying a lot of it, so my own chocolate card collection was rather poor. Sirius and James and Lily ended up giving all their chocolate frogs cards to me, so it's a rather impressive collection. Given the cards change every decade or so, you'll find a lot of wizards in there who do not feature on cards nowadays. I know that you're a bit behind with your own collection, given that you only started when you came to Hogwarts and never inherited anything from relatives..."

"These are from chocolate frogs my mum and dad bought... and Sirius? Remus – thank you – that is a wonderful gift! But – shouldn't you be keeping it for Teddy?"

"When you feel the time is right and you don't need it anymore as a reminder of people you loved, I'm sure you'll pass it on to your godson in the same way I'm passing it on to you now. I guess at almost forty, I'm getting a bit too old for chocolate frog cards, and I haven't been adding to the collection for years. Though I still like to eat the frogs..."

"Thank you, Remus!" Harry felt his eyes become slightly misty. This was the second really great gift he had received this day. First the memories of his mother from Severus, now this wonderful memento of his father from Remus. It had turned out to be an unexpectedly plentiful Christmas.

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_A/N 2020: I'm not quite sure if I should continue publishing the last three or four chapters of this little story now or rather wait for the end of the year. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of interest, which is probably due to the fact that nobody is in the mood for anything Christmassy anymore. :) Even if I decide not to continue publishing at this point, never fear: The story is completed, it's just a matter of sending the last chapter to my beta for proof-reading. I will definitely have it completed by Christmas THIS year. :) _


	8. Light the Christmas Tree

_A/N: Thank you mizzadamz , Steffy4s3, worrywart, Ouatic-7, SeraphinaAngel, ToniOcean, Vinaplains, FrancineHibiscus, SnapeAddict74, Nigel Tegg and StormwingQueen for all your comments! Your strong reaction totally has blown me, I really hadn't thought that so many people were still following this. In order to say 'Thank you', I'm giving you the next chapter now (which means BEFORE it has been proof-read by my dear beta Dreamthrower). It might be interesting for you to see what it looks like in raw form, with all the mistakes and probably some funny expressions that might be a bit more German than English. :) I'll correct them as soon as Dreamthrower had a chance to look over it. Hope you like it anyway!_

_PS: Edited and corrected on .2020. Thank you, Dreamthrower! Much better now!  
_

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**Light the Christmas Tree**

After the gifts had been distributed, Kreacher brought out the plum pudding, accompanied by custard, brandy and a huge bowl of punch. They all had a laugh when it was Draco who found the silver sickle, promising him wealth when he already was the heir of a fortune.

"Just goes to prove that money goes to money," said Draco, shrugging, and got himself another glass of punch. "Next time, tell Kreacher to put other tokens into the pudding – a ring, for instance, so we'll know which of us is going to get married in the year to come."

"None of us is," said Luna earnestly, blowing into her cup to cool the steaming liquid. "I'm going to go on an expedition, Hermione and Draco are going to get their NEWTS and start their careers, Harry, sadly, won't be allowed to marry any man he falls in love with, Professor Lupin still considers himself a married man and Professor Snape is not ready to ponder marriage just yet. There was no sense in putting a ring into the pudding."

As usual, Luna's quiet and confident statement was met with a moment of silence, in which the mentioned people tried to figure out how – or if – to respond to that. Especially Severus, who marvelled at the girl's assumption that he would ever find himself in circumstances that would make him ponder marriage. It was pretty absurd. He was approaching forty, and there had never been a woman in his adult life. He was quite obviously not relationship material. Any notions a certain young witch entertained to the contrary were pretty ridiculous in the harsh light of day, which shone pretty much everywhere outside the dungeons.

Of course, his godson couldn't let it rest. "So, you think my godfather will consider marrying, given time?" Draco asked, smirking at Severus.

"Of course," Luna innocently answered. "He would want his kids to grow up in a loving family, wouldn't he? So why shouldn't he be married to his children's mother? It's the most normal thing to do, right, Professor Snape?"

"Well, I shall give the matter more thought if one of the many witches waiting in line should make it a matter of urgency," Severus responded drily, still hung up on the idea of having not only a wife, but 'children', in plural. He really must have lost his edge if suddenly everybody envisioned him as father of a family. It was probably that infernal Skeeter woman and the imbecilic pseudo-biography she had written about him. Utter crap, of course, but apparently, women all over Britain suddenly regarded him as tragic romantic hero because of it and felt he should be saved by love.

"Well, I, for my part, am happy that I don't have to worry about being married off anytime soon," said Draco. "If my parents were still around, I bet they would have started looking for a suitable pureblood wife a year ago, and I'd probably find myself settled with kids on the way already."

Hermione disapprovingly shook her head. "I never understood why marrying young is so fashionable among wizards. Harry's parents, Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, now Ron and Lavender – they all were barely out of school when they tied the knot. None of the girls ever had a profession."

"That's because wizarding society is still a very traditional one, in which it's up to the man to support a family, and a woman shouldn't have to contribute to the income," Remus said, his voice flat. His wife had been an Auror, and given that he had been unemployed most of his life due to his condition, she had not only contributed to, but basically provided the family's financial means.

"It's a waste of education," Severus put in, sounding adamant. "A lot of girls show much more talent while in Hogwarts than the boys do. Why do we take such pains to teach them if we plan to marry them off as soon as they have their NEWTs?"

"Not many witches choose to study the advanced theoretical subjects like Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, History of Magic on NEWT level," Remus called to mind. "They are content to learn how to brew the most basic healing and beautification potions, have rudimentary grasp of magical herbs and plants, and know enough about charms and transfiguration for everyday use. Hermione is not the usual example."

"Miss Granger is the exception to the rule in quite many regards," Severus said, managing somehow to make it sound condescending, even though he had meant it in every other possible interpretation. Exceptional. Outstanding. Dazzling. Over so the years, he had developed a pretty good understanding of people – or so he thought. She was the only one who continuously managed to throw him completely off track by behaving in an utterly unexpected and unsettling way.

She did so again only about an hour after he had made that comment about her, when she unceremoniously plonked down on the sofa next to him with two glasses of wine and a bottle in her hand. "Look what I found," she told him cheerfully. "I noticed you skipped the punch, but will you have a glass of wine with me?"

Severus raised his brow when she rather casually flopped down on the cushion beside him, with her legs drawn up and not caring about the hem of her dress riding rather high on her thigh. She had long since gotten rid of her killer heeled shoes so her feet were bare. But only now did he notice that she had painted her toe nails with a gold-bronze colour that matched her dress. Somehow, the sight caught his gaze. Her feet were rather delicate. But why shouldn't they be? She was a petite witch.

"No, definitely not," he declined, too distracted to realize that his words sounded rude. "I'm done drinking for tonight." He had never seen her wearing make-up or nail polish before. He couldn't quite decide if he liked it or not. It made her look different in a subtle way. It was a good thing, he decided, giving it some thought. She looked older tonight, less like the little girl he had known for years and which had only recently started to grow on him. Before him sat a woman he hadn't really met before, but wouldn't be averse to getting to know. Which was unsettling, too, considering that she still was his student. So maybe plaited braids and a school uniform were the better option. It definitely was the safer one.

Hermione, having noticed his gaze, changed her posture, tugging her one foot self-consciously beneath her thigh. "But you only had two or three glasses of wine during our lengthy dinner..." she pointed out, wondering if that little alcohol, accompanied by so much food, could have made him feel like he had overindulged. He sure seemed a bit off.

"I prefer not to drink when in company," he replied a bit stiffly.

"Oh." Hermione frowned, not quite understanding. "But isn't it supposed to be the other way round? I think it's solitary drinking that is generally frowned upon..."

"I didn't say that I was prone to solitary drinking, either," Severus clarified. "I generally don't drink much, especially not with other people around." He paused briefly, making it sound light. "Who knows what might happen?"

"Afraid you might start singing in front of an audience?" Hermione asked, a teasing note in her voice. She could see how this might be a realistic fear for him. He just shrugged non-committedly.

"Pity," she said. "I bet you have a beautiful singing voice." As deep and melodious as it was when he was speaking, Hermione could only imagine what it must sound like if he added rhythm and varying pitch to it. Though admittedly, the Potions Master singing was hard to picture.

Hermione passed him an amused smile, before her expression turned thoughtful again. "It's not just the singing, is it?" she asked, trying to imagine a drunk Severus. "People do the most undignified things when drunk... I giggle a lot and behave outright silly. I also talk a lot..."

His eyebrow rose again, as if finding her claim hard to believe. "More than you do when sober?"

She gave him a playful, castigating nudge with her foot, the one that wasn't hidden beneath her leg. Feeling less inhibited after the wine she had consumed, she let it rest on the sofa, right next to his thigh. "You're afraid to be caught laughing or jesting or having fun, admit it!" she said teasingly.

"Yes. There's that, too." And look how fast just a little bit of wine got you in trouble. If he was to show the same easy and comfortable familiarity as she did right now... who knew what would happen? It was important to keep one's wit. Especially for him, and especially around her.

"There's another reason still," Hermione realized, having gotten much better at reading the subtle signs in her professor's body language and facial expression. Yes, the taciturn man wouldn't want to be caught gay and jesting, ever. But there was more to it. She could read it in his slightly tightened jaw and the rigidity of his posture. It was something more fearful.

"Alcohol lowers not only your inhibitions, but also your caution and your rational sense," Severus declared. "Not at all advisable for someone whose life depends on guarding his secrets." He had needed to be firmly in control of himself and his thoughts at all times during the war, never knowing when he might be summoned. Occluding had demanded his full awareness and concentration, and the Dark Lord had often tested him to the limit.

"But the war is over now..." Hermione pointed out. "You're with friends and your life is not in danger if you let go..."

Severus shook his head. Maybe not his life. But people around him might be – there was no way to be sure. He had no idea how he would act under the influence of drugs, and he preferred not to risk it in order to find out. Alcohol stripped away all the layers of cultivation, the polish of manners, the civility that came with restraint. It left you raw and bare in a way even stripping naked wouldn't. In his experience, it brought out the worst in people. "Let's say my experience with drunks is not one that comprises singing, giggling or spurting nonsense."

She instantly sobered. "Your father?" She didn't need the confirmation. "I'm so sorry, I forgot." She now remembered the long talk they'd had during one of her lessons, about his mother and his childhood. His father had become an alcoholic after losing his job, and he had often turned violent when drunk, beating his wife and probably his kid. Without doubt, this had left Severus with scars and fears that would never go away. No wonder he preferred to stay mostly abstinent.

"It's a sad story, certainly nothing to dwell on," her friend and mentor allowed. "Just be happy that you have other associations."

"I do. My dad was a happy drunk, who just got all cuddly with my mom and would grin a lot." Hermione smiled fondly at the memory. "So are Harry and Ron. They are ridiculous when pissed. Like small kids, all giddy and giggly."

"Yes, so I noticed." Their gaze went to Harry and Draco, who were sitting on the floor in front of the other couch, whispering to each other and quite obviously having a lot of fun with whatever they were plotting or discussing. Clearly, they were far from sober at this point. Then Hermione's eyes wandered back to her mentor's carefully impassive face, which, as usual, hid his true emotions. It didn't require a lot of intuition to figure them out, though. "You're nothing like your father, if that's what you're worrying about," she stated firmly. "You'd never become violent when drunk, not against any person."

"And how, pray tell, do you come to that conclusion?" he asked irritably, an unmistakable challenge in his voice. She didn't know him. She had no idea what kind of man he truly was. She was far too young and inexperienced to understand. "Do you think me incapable of hurting people?" If she did, she was far more naive than he had given her credit for.

Hermione was not to be deterred. "No," she said frankly. "You do hurt people, quite often, in fact. But you do that by giving them a tongue lashing, by being sarcastic or by being cold towards them, not by becoming physically violent. Your desperate attempts to rein in the Carrows and save even the worst offenders from corporal punishment last year proved that. You abhor violence. You never raised your hand against a student, not even when you were furious. You were sickened by what Umbridge did to us in our fifth year."

He raised his brow in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"Because we never brewed so many potions that required Murtlap as in that year, making it easy to nick a bit. And you stockpiled more than we ever needed in class. It was also you who had made us write an essay on the healing properties of Murtlap in the first place."

Severus looked at her in silent amazement. The girl was far too observant for her own good. If he kept her around, he'd have no secrets left – what a frightening thought! She'd have made an excellent spy. Except for the fact that she was unable to keep her own secrets, which would have cut her life as a spy rather short.

"Yes, you're right," he finally conceded. About the Murtlap, and also about his abhorrence of violence. "I do despise seeing people hurt and injured, and I've seen enough violence to last a lifetime." It was one of the first things that had turned him away from the Death Eaters. "But my father was never violent when sober. It's when his inhibitions fell and he lost control of himself that he became dangerous. Who knows if it's an inherited trait? I'd rather not find out."

"Forgive me for saying so, Sir, but that's utter rubbish," Hermione said, straightening her spine. Severus found it mildly amusing how she suddenly addressed him so formally again, especially while telling him off in such a rude manner. Maybe she wanted to be respectfully disrespectful. "In vino veritas," the girl continued, utterly sure of herself. "Lowered inhibitions can only bring forth what is there to begin with. A decent man, even if stripped of all inhibitions and control, is still a decent man."

She got up, presumably to get a refill, but leaned back down to say softly and close to his ear: "One day, I'd love to get drunk with you – just the two of us. And I solemnly swear that nobody will ever hear of it if you should start singing or reciting poems."

She didn't turn to see his expression when she walked away, but she could feel his eyes on her back. If she was entirely truthful, she enjoyed being able to stun him without even using a wand. There were not many people who could still surprise and confuse Severus Snape and she was pretty sure that he was rather shocked right now for her having painted such an audacious picture of the two of them.

A picture that she rather liked... Smiling into the punch bowl, Hermione realized that it was almost empty. Given that it was neither her, nor Severus, nor Remus who had drunk that much, it was definitely Harry and Draco who had finished most of it. Luna was still serenely sipping on the eggnog she had gotten herself quite a while ago.

The boys now lay sprawled on – or rather half off – the other sofa, doing pretty much everything Severus was afraid of: Giggling, spurting nonsense and acting all cuddly. Draco actually had Harry's head in his lap. It brought another fond smile to her face. It was great to see Harry like this. He had been a troubled adult for far too long, and it was high time for him to let go of all his worries and just have fun for a change. They all deserved that.

Hermione grabbed a piece of the Christmas cake and turned back to the sofa. She was just about to sit down when a noise and a movement caught her gaze. "What's with the tree?" Hermione wondered aloud, when the branches started to blur and move rather vigorously.

"Oh no," said Lupin, staring at it in shock, while Severus leaned back and broke into a really wicked sneer. "Oh yes!" he said, lifting his cup of tea in a congratulatory salute to both of his godsons, who were rather slow to react. "I'm impressed you held it up for so long."

"What are you..." ... on about, Hermione had wanted to ask, but that moment, chaos and mayhem broke loose. Loud screeching and wailing came from the Christmas tree, and then the three Holy Kings and the shepherds, the angel, Holy Mary and Joseph, even little Jesus transformed back into garden gnomes, no longer petrified and scowling, but fuming and raging. The flock of sheep turned into cockroaches again that scattered in all directions, which made Draco give startled cry and made Harry spit out a sip of his drink. A visibly enraged, hairy-legged ex-angel climbed down the ex-Christmas tree, which had turned into a dead acorn once again.

Furious and thirsting for vengeance, the gnomes launched a vicious attack on the remaining decorations, which looked rather displaced on the few, bare branches anyway.

"What the heck..." said Draco, dumbfounded.

"Don't look so surprised." Severus was watching with amusement how the howling gnomes wrecked the manger, crashed the remaining glass baubles and shredded the tinsel. He only lazily raised his wand to extinguish the flames when the floating candles, one after the other, fell to the ground, setting the rubble on fire. "Have you forgotten everything Flitwick ever taught you about Charms? They only hold as long as the wizard is conscious and clear-minded enough to keep up the magic flow that feeds them. That's why spells fail when their caster dies, is rendered unconscious or – in your case – is dead drunk. It's also why long-lasting spellwork requires either multiple wizards working together or an external magical anchor."

"I remember now..." mumbled Harry faintly, watching in horror as the gnomes, having finished dismantling the Christmas tree and the manger, stomped towards the door, snarling and hissing with raised fists, bared teeth and red faces and smashing everything that stood in their path.

"Well, that was some entertainment!" said Remus, rising. "I'd better go and let these fellows out, before they destroy the kitchen on their way to the back door... I'll head to bed after that. I guess I'm a tiny bit drunk myself."

Harry nodded, looking a bit confused, and struggled to get up. "I should clean this up..." As he was having difficulties rising, Hermione quickly took the wand from his hand. "I don't think you should perform any more magic tonight, Harry. You're hammered. Let's get you to bed." She moved to stand beside him and put his arm around her shoulder, stabilizing him. Luna quickly followed her lead and took his other arm.

"Severus – can you make sure that Draco is safely put to bed, too? I wouldn't trust him with the stairs..."

"Right," he said, raising his wand at Draco and casting a Levitation charm on him, which had him hanging in the air, helpless and a bit undignified. "Hey..." the boy protested, his voice a bit slurred. "Le'me down thisistant! I can balk why myself!"

"Sure you can," said Severus ironically. "But this is more fun. Now I suggest you keep your mouth shut, in case you're overcome by motion sickness as well. There's enough to clean without you adding to the mess."

Having it easier with his still fussing charge floating ahead of him at the tip of his wand, he passed Luna, Hermione and Harry before they made it to the stairs and disappeared into Draco's room long before the three of them had reached the second landing. Neither Hermione nor Luna felt sober enough to risk levitating their friend with magic, not after what they had just witnessed.

Once safely in Harry's room, Hermione and Luna dumped their friend onto his bed, divested him of his shoes and jeans and pulled the blanket over him. He was sound asleep before they had closed the door behind them.

"Well, that was a fun evening!" Luna said, smiling at Hermione. "I'm really happy that Harry invited me. Sleep well, Hermione. And remember the silencing charm if you decide to take the potion. Just in case..."

The potion! She had almost forgotten about it. But yes, that was a great idea. Nobody would tear her out of sleep the next morning – Harry and Severus had planned to leave for Godric's Hollow early and Draco surely wouldn't be up before noon. He always liked to sleep in.

"You're sure it won't mix badly with the alcohol I had?"

"If you were close to passing out like Draco just now, you might miss out on the full experience. But you still seem pretty sober. It won't matter."

Hermione smiled. "Then I'll go and get it. Good-night, Luna!"

"Same to you!"

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_A/N: I'm very sure you'll all like the next chapter, Oh-ho, the Mistletoe! After all, I still owe you a kiss! :) _


	9. Oh-ho, the Mistletoe!

_A/N: Chapter now proof-read and edited by my dear beta, Dreamthrower! __Thank you, mizzadamz, Ouatic-7, Larislazuli, ToniOcean , BlueWater5 , FrancineHibiscus, ___skyeryder01 _and guest Jana for reviewing!_**  
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**Oh-ho, the Mistletoe!**

Hermione rushed down the stairs again to pick up the potion which she had left on the table in the parlour, next to her new flamingo slippers. She was glad that Luna had reminded her of the Sweet Dream Elixir – she had almost forgotten about it due to the evening's unexpected progression. There was no doubt who she would dream about under the influence of the potion; her friend and mentor had been on her mind every sleeping and waking moment as of late, even without the help of stimulants. And she was very much looking forward to having an especially lucid dream of him. If she was lucky, it would be one of her racier fantasies she would get to experience...

She was just about to enter the parlour when Severus, who apparently had come back to clean up the mess the angry gnomes had left behind, was on his way out again.

She felt a weird tingling sensation all over her body when she almost collided with him. At first, she ascribed it to his sudden, unexpected nearness that always made her stomach flip in a rather nice way. But when he took a sharp breath, she knew he had felt it, too, and realized that the magical sensation was physical rather than metaphysical. She lifted her face and looked up. Sweet Merlin! The mistletoe!

"Oh..." she breathed, her eyes widening.

"Indeed," he said, his face not betraying what he made of the situation.

Hermione couldn't deny being happy about it. She had been hoping to steal a mistletoe kiss from him ever since Draco had caught her in the kitchen doorframe. Nah – who was she kidding? She had been thinking about kissing him every night for the past few weeks, and every time she'd been in his office. Now was her chance to make it happen again, and she wouldn't allow him to find a way to back out now.

"Well, I believe we have no choice in the matter," she said, pretending a nonchalance she didn't truly feel. "Harry has put a charm on it..."

"So I noticed." Severus had felt his chest tighten the moment he had become aware of the magic holding him in place. The charm would keep them stuck underneath the door frame until they had kissed. If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that he had wished it would happen ever since Hermione had gotten herself trapped underneath it with Draco. It might not have meant anything to her or to his godson, but seeing another man put his lips on hers had stirred a strange kind of reaction in him. There was no denying it: The feeling, as alien as it was to him nowadays, was jealously. He couldn't even remember when he had last felt it. Wishing to wipe Draco's kiss from her lips with his own was just one part of his desire to kiss her again. He had wanted to do so ever since the night in his office about two months ago.

_It's just a harmless Christmas tradition_, a smooth and devious voice in his head assuaged, _nothing to worry about_. And true enough – he couldn't be held responsible if he kissed her this time – he hadn't hung the damn thing, after all.

But he truly shouldn't, another, nagging voice warned. Being around her so constantly, having been in her mind so often and having gotten to know her so well – he was in far too deep already. She was temptation incarnate, especially now, in that beautiful dress, looking all grown up, elegant and desirable. And kissing her again would make it all so much worse. How was he supposed to carry on treating her as his student for another five agonizing months if they kissed again? Hermione or Miss Granger, friend or student, innocent girl or beguiling young woman... the lines had blurred to the point of non-existence.

His body had its own view on things, however. It definitely saw a woman, an attractive one at that, and it wasn't feelings of friendship that made him long to kiss her. And how could he not – standing so close to her that she was touching him, looking up at him with undisguised longing in her gaze? Nobody had ever looked at him with longing. With lust, maybe, in the heat of the moment. But what he saw in her eyes was different. A need for closeness and intimacy that was not primarily sexual. She wanted _him_. He didn't need Legilimency to read it in her mind. It was there in the flush of her cheeks, the sudden shine in her eyes, in her slightly parted lips that she moistened instinctively.

Merlin, how could he – how could any man – resist such temptation?

Hermione saw the torment in his eyes, and she understood his reluctance. But for once, she was allowed to act – kissing under the mistletoe was not frowned upon, not even if the pair stuck there was officially in a student-and-teacher relationship. Of course, it would depend on the kiss... but there was no one to witness. She usually wasn't bold when it came to these matters, but rather shy and insecure. But right now, she knew exactly what she wanted, and that was to feel his lips on hers again.

Taking initiative, she slung her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. Merlin, he was so tall – unless he bent down or lifted her up, she wouldn't even be able to reach his lips! Up this close and within easy reach at least for her eyes and hands, they looked more delectable than ever. She couldn't resist touching them. Slowly, she circled her finger along the lines of his mouth, over his pronounced cupid's bow and the soft pad of his lower lip. They were slightly parted, and she could feel his breath on her fingertip. Her own breath became shallow and her knees weak.

Thankfully, he finally took mercy on her and slung his own arm around her, anchoring her, and she could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Having her reach out and touch him did him in. He wasn't made of stone, although it surely felt as if parts of him were. And for all that he thought her an angel, he wasn't a saint. He wanted her... Merlin, how he wanted her!

With a hunger like he had never felt before, his mouth descended on hers, drinking in her blissful sigh and sweet taste. There was still a hint of the wine she had drunk on her tongue, and much more than alcohol, her taste was intoxicating and went straight to his head. It took all of his willpower to remember who he was – and who she was – to not let his baser instincts take over. If he allowed that to happen, she'd finally meet the side of him he had not allowed her to see. She'd finally know that he wasn't the aloof, striving-for-patience and trying-to-be-gentle professor she had chosen to paint him as, but a rather dominant man - one who longed to consume, to overpower and to demand her full surrender. It would leave no room for doubt that he was claiming her as _his_. And though he longed to do so, the still functional part of his brain told him firmly that he must not, that neither of them was in a position to accept what the other could possibly offer. So he held back, kissing her with just enough ardour to let her know what she signed up for if she insisted to continue on that path.

Hermione couldn't help but let another moan escape from deep in her throat. This was not what she had dared to hope for. She had expected to either receive just a soft peck on her lips, or maybe, if she was lucky, a kiss like the one he had given her in his office – deliberate and gentle. But this was something else... more raw, more powerful. She could feel his hunger and passion from the way he invaded her mouth, drinking in her eager response. And there was literally no room for doubt that he was responding to her as well, given that he held her pressed so close to his body. Oh boy...

No, she corrected her own mental exclamation when she felt the evidence of his arousal hard against her thigh, reminding her that he certainly was no 'boy'. It filled her with a weird sense of power that she could evoke such a passionate response in him – she, the brainy, know-it-all bookworm, who was anything but an expert when it came to men, especially not one as intimidating as him. The fact that he made no attempt to hide his erection and the undisguised ardour with which he was kissing her was doubtlessly meant to serve as warning, though she had no idea against what. It was an empty threat, anyway. She knew that she could count on him to not let things get too far. While she was usually rather timid when it came to physicality, she felt safe in the knowledge that _he_ certainly wouldn't press for anything she wasn't prepared for, and she shamelessly took advantage of that fact. She returned his kiss with abandon, losing herself in his warmth, his touch and his taste.

Severus felt her melt into him, and it stirred up desires he had up to now successfully subdued around her. She was surrendering, yielding, giving herself completely over to him, blissfully unaware what sleeping dragons she was waking by doing so. Sweet Merlin...

He barely had enough of his sanity left to firmly rein in his rampant emotions and gather his senses. The girl was a bewildering mix of contradictions, and she constantly called forth equally contradictory reactions in him. While she was fierce, pushy and courageous in many aspects, there was also a vulnerability to her that he had never noticed before, although it had been there even before the war. It brought out a surprising protectiveness in him, a patience and gentleness he hadn't even known he possessed.

So far, he had handled her with caution and concern, foolishly viewing himself as her mentor, but that had been nothing but self-deception. There was nothing fatherly or remotely benign about his motives. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. He felt that she needed to be aware of that, in case she had deluded herself into thinking that he was her knight in white armour, as much as the black he shrouded himself in should have dissuaded such notions. So his kiss – though deep and passionate, carefully controlled – had been meant to intimidate, to make her aware of how hot the fire might get that she was so innocently playing with. Yet unwittingly, she had somehow turned the tables on him and attacked him with fierce abandon. Even that was a contradiction. How could one raise an attack with unconditional surrender? Why did he feel as if he was suddenly the one under fire? Carefully, delicately, he reassembled his defences, mindful not to hurt the conqueror when he gently retreated.

Hermione's eyes had glazed over when she opened them again. He fought the urge to place another, gentle kiss on her half-open lips, if only to kiss good-bye to her mouth, to this intimacy, to her as the woman he desired. He might be able to somehow justify this one mistletoe-induced kiss to himself, but he wouldn't be able to justify another. And he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it simple. So he just allowed his fingers to softly caress her cheek when he let go of her, committing to memory the sight of her: her skin flushed with desire, her pupils dilated and her lips looking thoroughly kissed.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Wow. The man certainly knew how to kiss. She had always thought that this knee-turned-jelly thing was just a silly depiction in romance novels. Who'd have guessed it could really happen? She felt the holding magic from the mistletoe releasing her, but _his_ magic held her captured still, just as his arms did, which she was grateful for.

"I believe we are both free to continue our way..." he pointed out softly, not yet moving himself.

"Yes," she murmured. "I was about to..." Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to remember why she had come back to the parlour. Ah, yes. The potion. "I forgot something..."

"Well, then..." He finally let go of her and stepped aside, gesturing to the way he had cleared. She missed the feeling of being in his arms already. "Don't let me deter you. Good night. Hermione."

"Good night – Severus."


	10. Gonna Find Out Who's Naughty and Nice

**Gonna Find Out Who's Naughty and Nice**

_A/N: I changed my mind. I previously had this chapter as a one-shot, but it had not met much interest. Therefore, I will include it this story, where it belongs. As this is a bit racier than T, I'm going to change the rating of the story accordingly._

_Please note that there will be no other chapters for the Christmas Story until end of this year. I do have the last chapter ready, but up to this point, it's only a short one to bring the story to a decent close. I'd like to keep my options open in case I have an inspired idea of anything I still might like to add. _

_If you want this in chronological order, you could always read 'The Truth Behind it All' after the one-shot. It's about Harry's and Severus' visit to Godric's Hollow which is to come right the upcoming day._

_Thank you all for reading and reviewing!_

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**A Naughty Detention**

Hermione stood in front of the Potion Master's office door, feeling the thrill of anticipation and a touch of nervousness. She wasn't sure about how he would react... was this too forward? Too indecent? Would he take her up on her offer, as she really hoped he would?

When she heard his invitation to enter, she opened the door and stepped inside. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw her, and felt herself blush. Still, she wouldn't let her nerves get the better of her now. She wanted this. If she was honest, she had wanted this for longer than it was decent.

"Professor Snape..." she said demurely, lowering her gaze to the floor. "I'm here for my detention..."

He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at her, and Hermione felt her heart sink. Was he angry? She knew how strongly he felt about his integrity as a teacher, so her attempt at seduction might be a bit insensitive. But her libido had never particularly cared for her concerns – and neither for his – and this scenario had fuelled her fantasies for a long time.

"Miss Granger," her favourite Professor finally hissed, putting an emphasis on her last name that sent thrills through her body and made her hopes soar. "Would you care to explain your attire?"

"What's wrong with it, Sir?" she asked with pretended innocence. "It's my school uniform..."

"Yes, I can see that. However, it seems that it has shrunk considerably in size since I last saw you in it." Yes, it undeniably had. But it still fit, although it was a bit of a stretch – literally.

He let his gaze wander over her, his expression unreadable, but so intense that she felt it like a physical touch, raising goose bumps on her flesh.

"I might have used a drying spell on it accidentally..." Hermione said sheepishly, and looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Do... do you want me to go and change, Sir?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't send her away.

Again, he didn't say anything for a moment. Then she saw him tighten his jaw and put on a stern expression. "I think not," he said, the tone of his voice making her think of silk covering steel. "You are already inexcusably late. It seems I have to teach you more than one lesson tonight."

Yes! She suppressed an elated smile, and her heart picked up a beat. "About what, Sir?"

"About respect, Miss Granger! You're showing up late for your detention, wearing a blouse and a cardigan that are far too small and too tight and a skirt that is too short by at least 6 inches..." Truth be told, the hem of her skirt was riding up at least 8 inches too high on her thigh, but he probably didn't want to sound pedantic. "And then there is still the issue with you daydreaming where you shouldn't be, which landed you in detention in the first place. All that shows me that you obviously hold no respect for rules and no respect for me as your professor."

"On the contrary, Sir," Hermione assured. "I have the utmost respect for both."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't have dared to come here, dressed as indecently as you are! Let me make sure that you fully understand the purpose of certain school rules... Tell me, Miss Granger: Why do you think students are required to wear uniforms?"

"Because they put us on equal footing and prevent peer pressure?" she ventured, not sure where he was going with this line of questioning.

"That's the obvious answer. Go on. Surely you can do better than that."

"Uniforms show we are part of an organisation," Hermione mused. "Wearing it gives us a sense of belonging – not only to Hogwarts, but to our respective houses, and it creates an identity for both. Wearing a uniform is a badge of pride."

"Have you read this somewhere? That sounds suspiciously like a quote from a book. Think for yourself, girl, and think of it in a context of respect, which you are obviously lacking."

"It's to symbolize our status as students..."

"Better. To what purpose?"

"To distinguish us from our teachers and remind us that we aren't officially adults yet..." Hermione said ruefully. Yes, she had totally gotten this point. But it didn't prevent her from falling hard for her teacher.

"Yes, Miss Granger. And that's especially important with seventh year students, who might be of age and no longer look like children. _You_ surely don't. Was it your intention to be explicit and flaunt the obvious in my face?"

"Yes," she confessed. "I haven't felt like a child for a long time, and I don't appreciate being treated as such. Especially not by you."

"And why, pray, is that? What made you feel this urge to make me aware of your ... maturity? A crush?"

"I wouldn't call it a mere crush, Sir. I'm afraid I'm in much deeper..." Hermione slowly approached the desk, her eyes fixed on his. She lowered her voice a bit, hoping it would sound seductive, but not too obviously so. "The truth is: Everything about you draws me in... your aloofness, your attire, your wit... the buttons on your frock coat and your sensual voice. I can't sleep without thinking of you, without reaching for you... I miss you when I don't see you, even if it's only for a day. You have bewitched my mind and ensnared my senses, I'm mesmerised when I see your hands in action or when I hear your voice..."

A frown appeared on his forehead – and a small vertical line, right between his eyebrows. She had always found it fascinating.

"Is that your pitiful excuse for the inattentiveness you showed in my lessons?" he asked, not appearing impressed by her confession at all. "Then perhaps I shall have to teach you not to let yourself get distracted so easily. But first, we shall address the matter of your inappropriate attire... Take out a parchment and quill, please, and write down the school specifications for student uniforms so you remember them next time."

"I didn't bring anything to write with..." Hermione confessed. "I thought you'd make me brew or scrub cauldrons."

Disapprovingly, he shook his head. "You came unprepared. Tut-tut! I'm afraid we'll have to add that to the list of your wrongdoings." He gave her a piece of parchment from his own stack and a quill. When she made a move to sit down in the comfortable chair in front of his desk, he stopped her. "No, Miss Granger. This chair is reserved for a very special student – I'm afraid you can't use it. Come over here..." He waved her over to his side of the desk and made her stand next to him. "You can write your lines standing. I'll have to determine the extend of your infraction of regulations so I can put it down in your school record."

He wanted her to write while standing right next to him – bending over his desk? Hermione felt a delicious tightening in her stomach. This promised to be good!

"What are you waiting for, girl? If you don't get started now, you'll never get back to your quarters tonight. We still have much to do."

Obediently, Hermione hastened to follow his instructions. Dipping her quill into the ink, she leaned down over her parchment, pushing out her bottom in the process. She felt the hem of the skirt ride up even higher. There were other things happening, too, and there was no way he wouldn't notice, sitting this close to her.

Her heart was beating furiously in her chest now – really, there should be absolutely no reason for her to get jittery about this! – Hermione tried to focus on her task. She had barely finished the first paragraph of the Hogwarts Dress Code, when she suddenly felt his hand touching her leg somewhere below her knee. She drew in a sharp breath.

"What would you say is the officially required length for a uniform skirt, Miss Granger?" her Professor asked, almost conversationally. "Shouldn't it at least come down to here?" He ran his fingers over her skin for emphasis, indicating what he thought might be the appropriate length for a skirt. She stood rock still.

"No, Sir." Hermione carefully shook her head. "Definitely higher than that."

She felt his hand slowly move up a little, gliding over the sensitive area of skin on the back of her knee. "Up to here, then?" he asked, resting them just above her knee now.

"The regulation allows for a little leeway..."

"I see. Well, then let's find the point where it breaches them. Say stop when you think I've reached it..."

Torturously slow, his hands moved up higher, caressing her thighs. His fingers were warm, even hot on her skin and sent delicious tingles to other parts of her body. It was a divine feeling. Hermione closed her eyes in bliss and barely managed to suppress a moan. Higher and higher climbed his hand, until it disappeared under the hem of her skirt and reached the junction of her thighs. Hermione felt his thumbs slightly brush against the satin crotch of her knickers, and this time, she couldn't prevent a small whimper from escaping her breathlessly parted lips.

"Really, Miss Granger?" Her professor asked, his voice calm and even. Damn the man. He had the self-control of a monk. "I believe I have long since passed the point of decency. You're supposed to tell me 'stop'. We'll have to try that again. Focus this time."

He pulled his hand back from where it rested and put it back beneath her knee. "Higher..." she breathed. He obliged, moved upward a few inches and stilled again. "A little more..." she said. Or was it begging already? "There..." she finally said, not really wanting him to stop, but not wanting to go against his clear instructions.

"Very well. Then let me mark this for you." One hand still resting on her thigh, he reached for his own quill and dipped it into his red ink pot. "Continue writing, Miss Granger. You're supposed to copy down the rules." Hermione set her quill on the parchment again, and felt the tip of his own quill come down on her skin. What the heck? She turned her head.

"What are you doing, Professor?"

"Marking the minimum length your skirt is required to have, which shall help you dress properly next time," he responded, and slowly moved his quill across her skin, drawing a horizontal line on the back of her thigh. It tickled. Even more so when the feather accidentally brushed against her other leg when he moved his hand inwards. Hermione shuddered, but it was a really pleasant sort of shuddering. Who would have guessed that having your body painted would feel this nice?

"Stand still, Miss Granger," Professor Snape admonished, "or I'll have to do this all over again. And please spread you legs a little so I can reach around to the front."

Sweet Merlin! There she stood, bent over his desk, her skirt shorter than decent with her legs apart while he was meticulously painting lines on her skin! It was deliciously naughty. Hermione briefly wondered if he was embellishing the edging with adornments, given that it seemed to take forever. And while her body was having all sorts of reactions to his diligent artwork, he still behaved like he was doing nothing out of the ordinary.

She somehow managed to keep writing, although due to the slight trembling of her hand, the result wasn't as neat as usual. She had almost finished the text by the time he was done with her second leg. But then he had to bend down and gently blow on the ink to make it dry faster. Hermione's insides clenched almost painfully, her hand jerked, and the tip of the quill broke, leaving a big blot of ink on her parchment.

"Oh my," said her Professor, noting the mess. "You broke my quill. One would think you'd be more careful with other people's belongings! I'm afraid I can't let that pass..." He reached for the ruler that lay on the desk before her. Hermione's eyes widened in concern. Surely, he wouldn't... ? She was into all kinds of kink, but being spanked didn't really count among them. She also hadn't thought him capable of raising a hand against her – he had never been into corporal punishment.

Having noticed her sharp intake of breath and the stiffening of her spine, he immediately pulled back, a peculiar look on his face. Hermione silently cursed herself. She _knew_ that he wasn't going to hurt even a hair on her body, but now he would doubtlessly wonder if she did. Hermione was abashed. "I'm sorry, Sir. I was just startled for a moment... I know you wouldn't ever cause me pain." Though it certainly wouldn't count as hurting if she was into it, and who knew if he thought she was? He certainly couldn't be blamed for suspecting it, given her inclination and the fact that she was most seriously crushing for a teacher. She threw him an apologetic look, hoping that she hadn't ruined it now. His face was set in a frown, but he relaxed when she reached out and touched the hand that still held the ruler in a gesture of apology, pleading with her eyes to forgive her.

"Very well," he said. "You can make up for this added insult to my person later. Now take a new quill and start over. And be careful, this time!"

When she started writing down the requirements for Hogwarts school robes on a clean piece of parchment, she felt something touch her leg once more. Not his fingers, sadly, but something else... the ruler. He was putting the length of it against her thigh, measuring the distance between the line he had drawn on her leg and the hem of her skirt.

"You're short by eight inches, Miss Granger," he said, sounding disapproving.

"But Sir... Hermione protested weakly. It was the ruler that was about half an inch too short! It ended just below where she wanted it to reach... She wriggled her bottom. There! Better... "I think you're being unfair. The hem would come lower if you hadn't made me bend over your desk right now."

"Are you implying that it's somehow my fault that your uniform doesn't conform with the requirements?" he asked, sounding incredulous. "Are you accusing me of being unfair? What's next – will you also blame _me_ for the fact that you cannot seem to focus on the task you've been given?"

"Yes! No... I mean... I can't help it, Sir. Your hands... they are distracting. They are even distracting when they're not actually touching me, because then I can't stop thinking how they feel when they do..."

"So you're hoping to satisfy your perpetual curiosity with the indecent behaviour you're demonstrating right now, practically pushing your bottom into them and exposing your knickers to me? It's almost like you're begging me to touch you, Miss Granger..."

"Oh, Merlin, yes, please do!"

He didn't, but moved the ruler away instead. "I think not. I certainly won't reward you when you're not even making an effort to stay focused."

"I will! I promise! Please..."

He seemed to ponder her request. "Well, maybe I should try a more tactile approach with my teaching... You really must learn to tune out distracting sensory input when given a task."

"Maybe I just need some practice?" Hermione ventured, sounding hopeful.

"Possibly. Follow me then, Miss Granger. You'll do some brewing."

"What?" That was not the kind of hands-on approach she had had in mind. He got up and gestured her to enter his private lab. "Let's see... I don't want to put you in mortal peril, Miss Granger, so I'll give you a non-explosive potion to brew. A Wit-Sharpening Potion will do nicely, I think. The preparation of ingredients doesn't require a knife, just good concentration on your stirring." He took a couple of jars from the shelves and put them in front of her, then gave her a copper cauldron and a stirring rod. "The deal is this: If you manage to brew this potion correctly, you will be rewarded – I might even let you drink it. If you don't, you will _have_ to drink it."

"I'll have to drink it if I didn't brew it right?" Hermione asked, wondering if she understood him correctly.

"As you have brewed, so you must drink... Don't worry, Miss Granger. Nothing in the potion can seriously harm you. Depending in which stage you mess up, you'll either grow a tail, sprout a nice set of antlers or end up babbling incoherently for the rest of the evening." He grinned evilly. "Here are the brewing instructions. They're quite simple..." He opened a potions's cookbook and put it in front of her.

Heat water in a cauldron.

Mix in Ginger Root until lime green.

Mix in Armadillo Bile until blue.

Mix in ground Scarab Beetles until red.

Remix in Armadillo Bile until liquid is yellow. (Not dark green!)

Mix in more ginger roots until brew is lime green.

Mix Armadillo Bile until the potion is purple.

Allow potion to simmer for 10 minutes.

Add more Ginger Root until the potion is dark orange

"The difficulty lies – as you probably know – in the stirring... It has to be smooth and steady so the ingredients will combine properly."

"Why should I mess it up?" Hermione asked, already directing a heating charm at the potion to get the water going. "That's a second year's potion."

"Oh, you shouldn't mess it up," her Professor replied, leaning closer and whispering with a mean smirk: "Unless you're having trouble staying focused on your task again..." He moved out of her line of sight, but only to position himself somewhere behind her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head and heard a rustling of fabric. Had he taken off his teaching robe? Not knowing exactly where he was or what he was doing sent another thrill of excitement through her. Still, she instinctively made a motion to turn her head.

"Already having trouble following simple instructions? You're supposed to keep eyes on the book and on your potion. You may begin, Miss Granger. Don't mind me."

Okay, so that was the game he was playing... Suddenly, Hermione understood how Neville felt. Or maybe not. Unless he wet himself in fear – which she didn't think he ever did – _his_ underwear would remain dry. With slightly shaking hands, Hermione opened the jar with the dried ginger and added the required amount into the cauldron. Picking up the rod, she started stirring smoothly.

Although she hadn't heard him move, she could suddenly feel the heat of his body right behind her. "Very good..." Professor Snape said, leaning over her shoulder and peeking into her cauldron. Unless he was looking somewhere else entirely. Her cardigan and the blouse beneath it were buttoned rather casually... Her face grew warm.

"I believe I have spotted yet another transgression of dress code, Miss Granger..." she heard him say, as he leaned even closer. His mouth was close to her ear now. "Is it possible that you forgot to put on a particular piece of clothing?"

The potion turned lime green in colour. The delicate skin of her collarbone turned a light shade of pink.

"The dress code does not stipulate anything about wearing a bra, Professor," Hermione replied, reaching for the jar with the Armadillo bile, which allowed him an even better look into her cleavage. The tight blouse hadn't left enough room for a bra. The tiny buttons were struggling to keep her goodies contained as it was.

"I was, of course, referring to your missing tie, Miss Granger," he corrected her assumption.

"Oh... of course..." Hermione stirred in the Armadillo bile to dissolve in the liquid. "Silly me. I'm afraid I lost it."

"Yes, your attitude is certainly proof of that."

"No – the tie, I mean... I couldn't find it."

"That's most unfortunate. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Hermione made another move to turn around, scandalized. "But you can't..." she started, when he put his hands on her shoulders and held her in place. The simple touch made her swoon. It was warm and firm. She felt safe in his hands.

"Your potion, Miss Granger. Unless you'd like to wear a tail for twenty-four hours or babble incoherently, I suggest you turn your attention back to it."

The potion had just turned blue, and Hermione hastened to add the ground Scarab Beetles. "But you can't deduct points for this!" Hermione protested, trying to focus on her potion. She really didn't want to wear a tail all evening. That was taking 'kinky' a bit too far.

He smirked. "Oh, I can, and I just did. You should know that your actions have consequences."

Hermione scowled, and put in more of the Armadillo bile. It was a binding agent that considerably thickened the potion, making it more difficult to stir smoothly. She grabbed the rod with both hands, stirring vigorously now. It made her boobs jiggle. He couldn't have foreseen that happening when choosing the potion, could he?

"Talking of conspicuously absent pieces of clothing..." her teacher purred, and the rumbling of his silky baritone so close to her ear sent a tingling all the way to her core. "Shouldn't you have put on a bra even if the dress code doesn't specifically demand it? This looks mighty uncomfortable..."

"Well, yes, it is... but I hadn't foreseen that I'd end up brewing something that requires handling a stirring rod in such manner..." Truth to tell, she had hoped to end up handling a different kind of rod altogether...

"Again, clearly your own fault, Miss Granger. However, I'm inclined to offer a hand..."

And that he did – two hands, to be precise. Hermione drew in a sharp breath and almost stopped stirring.

"Professor..."

"Focus, Miss Granger!" he admonished. Oh, but she did. She felt every finger. Most exquisitely his thumbs, which were brushing over her nipples ever so slightly, sending jolts of pleasure along whatever nerve connected them to the lower parts of her body. It was only thanks to the fact that her hands had unconsciously picked up the rhythm of his circling digits that her potion wasn't ruined completely at this stage.

With a trembling hand, Hermione reached out and added another handful of ginger roots to the mix and resumed stirring. Hermione let herself sink against his chest. Her legs were a bit unsteady. Instead of backing away, as he was prone to do, he pressed against her, and Hermione clearly felt the proof that he wasn't as unruffled and unimpressed by their antics as he pretended to be against her backside.

"I know it's hard, Miss Granger..." he whispered suggestively, his breath hot against the sensitive skin below her ear, "...to keep stirring smoothly once the Armadillo Bile starts thickening your potion. You'll just have to make an effort. After all, the point of this exercise is to stay focused."

His hands slipped lower, down her sides. She let out a breath, not quite sure if it was one of relief or frustration. The potion slowly began to change colour again. Hermione, previously hot and bothered, was slightly sweaty by now. His hands were gone. Briefly. Then they reappeared at the hem of her skirt, moving beneath it and gliding up her thighs. Her legs started to tremble when he moved them over the curve of her bottom, from where they were heading towards the lower part of her stomach. 'Just a little bit further', she silently prayed, but sadly, his one hand stilled and remained motionless on the border of her knickers. His right came up and closed over her own hand on the copper rod, which was jerking rather than moving in circles right now.

"Keep stirring, girl," he murmured into her ear. "Otherwise this evening is going to end in frustration for you..."

Assisted by his guiding hand, Hermione renewed her efforts. Her skin tingled where his hands had touched, her insides clenched in anticipation at where they might wander next. Mechanically, she reached out for the jar again, adding more Armadillo Bile. The potion condensed a bit more. She was grateful for his assisting hand. She was in double trouble as soon as he removed it. Straining the muscles of her arms and using the leverage of her body, Hermione was determined to stir the potion into submission. Her blouse wasn't up to the task, however. The button that had been straining most to keep the material together, popped – opening a beckoning window of opportunity, which her teacher immediately took advantage of. Hermione couldn't suppress a gasp this time when his hand dived into the gaping hole, cupping her breast again. There was no mistaking her moan for one of embarrassment or lament over her mishap.

She was hot and melting beneath his touch, and it was only due to sheer willpower that she managed to keep the small part of her brain that was still functioning on her potion.

"Good girl," he praised, while his teasing fingers were threatening to burn even the remaining fuses and a wash of desire flooded through her. "You only have to last for about another two minutes for the potion to turn purple. Can you do that?"

She gave a weak nod. Two minutes. Surely she'd be able to keep her focus two minutes longer.

"Then give it your best – as will I..." And with that, he let his left hand join in the action. It moved straight to the place beneath her skirt where its presence was most desired. Hermione regretted not having foregone her knickers altogether, but that had seemed a touch too indecent, even under the circumstances. It didn't really matter. The satin was thin and rather moist at this point, and certainly no hindrance to his skilful, clever fingers.

He played her like a musical instrument – plucking her strings, setting a rhythm, keeping stroke. Her breathing was ragged now, her eyes fell shut and she was sure that the sounds that were coming from her throat were music to his ears. Stubbornly, with a tinge of desperation, Hermione kept moving her hands, willing the rod into a roughly circular motion instead of moving it up and down as she instinctively wanted to. The tension in her entire body was building rapidly up to the breaking-point. She wouldn't be able to hold it much longer.

"That's it... purple..." she – finally! – heard his soft voice whisper into her ear. "You can let go now."

And with a cry of relief, she did. The rod fell from her fingers as her hand flew to his arm across her chest, clinging, clawing into his flesh as her entire body was shaking and convulsing uncontrollably with spasms of rapture.

He held her tight, letting her ride them out until the last wave subsided, preventing her from oozing to the floor in a puddle post-orgasmic bliss. When her breathing had finally returned to normal, he slowly withdrew his hands from over-sensitive areas, his touch now gentling and soothing.

"Well done, Miss Granger," he praised, nuzzling the place behind her ear. "If offered the right incentive, it seems your stubbornness even beats your propensity to get distracted. Whatever shall we do with that?"

"Take me to our bedroom, Severus," she suggested and turned around, claiming his lips in a passionate kiss before moving her mouth down his neck. With parted lips, she tasted his intoxicating scent with her tongue, gently caressing the tender scar tissue left behind by Nagini's bite. "Make love to me properly. Unless you are open to finishing this right here? I always fantasized about you shagging me senseless on the lab table..."

"I'd love to – but in about eight minutes, you still have a potion to tend to. You wouldn't want to let it go to waste after all the effort you put into it, would you?"

"I'd rather tend to you, but I'd like to have a little more time than eight minutes for that. Unless you feel capable of finishing the final step? In that case, I could begin making it up to you right here, starting by apologizing on my knees..."

He let out a growl. "Cheeky witch! I bet you'd like to do that... But what exactly will you be making up for?"

"Apart from hurting you with my involuntary reaction to the ruler earlier? For springing this on you and making you teach a wayward student even on your weekend... For getting home late again last night... and for making you suffer through dinner with Ron and Lavender the other day when I knew what she was up to. Take your pick."

"Merlin, you've really been a bad girl this week, haven't you?" he murmured, pulling the scrunchy from her hair and gently undoing her braid. He always loved to bury his fingers into her wild mane. "As to the first... you are forgiven. And you surely made up for my boring evening yesterday! For the record – if you're the one I get to teach, I'll do it anytime, gladly. As to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley... hm, I think that _does_ indeed require some sort of redemption. Yes, I really deserve a profound apology for that..."

"Thank you, Severus..." she whispered, standing up on her toes and pulling his head down for a heartfelt and thorough kiss this time. "For playing along with my naughty detention fantasy. I wasn't sure if you would. Posing as a school girl again when you suffered so long trying not to do anything inappropriate while I was one... I was afraid it might still compromise your virtue, even it wasn't real."

"Silly witch. You're my wife – nothing's compromising between us. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, don't you know that by now?"

"How could I not know – after everything you did for me... after all this time..."

"Always, Hermione."


End file.
